


Subterranean

by Angelaland



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Barebacking, Biting, Blasphemy, Breeding Kink, Church Sex, Collars, Come Swallowing, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Edgeplay, Exhibitionism, Frottage, Hand Feeding, Impact Play, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mentioned Impact Play, Modern AU, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Porn With Plot, Possessive Castiel (Supernatural), Prostate Massage, Rimming, Sex in/on the Impala (Supernatural), Smut, Social Worker Dean Winchester, Tattooed Castiel, Tattooed Dean Winchester, Team Dean Winchester's Red Ass, Thug!Cas, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Touch-Starved, erotic asphyxiation, punk!Cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 03:54:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 126,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17821385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelaland/pseuds/Angelaland
Summary: Dean knows better than to stay late at work, his commute home is dangerous any time, but especially after dark.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working on a long story, but this idea crept into my head and wouldn't let go. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The fetid stink of too many bodies mixes with a sharp, metallic tang and sweet, matted-down decay. Somehow, the symmetry of uniform, if not clean, tiles feels out of place down here where chaos reigns. Down the dark, dingy halls. Way down in the depths of earth’s belly. The whoosh of air from the gaping maw heralds the arrival of the train. Shrill, shrieking, screams of brakes tingle along his scalp. 

Dean knows better than to be in this part of town past dark. Here the shadows come alive and writhe to the tune of malicious laughter. Heart galloping with adrenaline kicking its flanks, he perceives every sound as a possible threat. With a malfunctioning slam, the doors open. No one exits. No one, save him alone, enters. He wanders past cracked vinyl seats that might have been red once upon a time. In the middle of the train car, he slips into a seat, pressing himself up against the relative safety of the wall. 

With the ever-increasing momentum of the train moving forward, his worries fade. Every click of the wheels on the tracks, every flicker of the safety lights passing by, every heart beat brings him out of this terrifying neighborhood and closer to home. He loves his work. If he didn’t, he would never put himself in situations like these. Every time dread slides down his throat like poison at the thought of coming here, he thinks of the people he’s helped. Those he will continue to help. They are talismans to ward away the evil in this place. 

He shoves aside thoughts of his peers, his friends, who have not fared as well as he has. He can’t let his thoughts wander to the muggings, the beatings, the rapes. If he considered the heinous acts his fellow activists have suffered in any detail, it might be enough to break his resolve. So, he compartmentalizes. He can either worry about his own safety, or the safety of those he’s trying to protect. 

The only chink in his armor is Sam. He allows himself to remember Sam because he is the reason for it all. His brother, his best friend, who was lost because there was no one on the streets looking out for him when he was scared and alone. 

The piercing scrape of metal signals their first stop. Dean holds his breath as the station comes into view, frame by frame in the windows. By sheer will, he tries to force the platform to be empty. Instead, he encounters a melee of bodies, thrashing together in a brutal assault. Shit. There are at least eight of them that he can separate into individual bodies. There might be more underneath. 

Dean hates this helpless anticipation. Will they notice the train? Will they make their way to his car? Will they want something from him? Will they take it? More than once he has thought about carrying a weapon, but without knowledge of how to use it, it’s a terrible idea. He would more than likely just be arming his attacker. 

When the doors clank open, he can hear the sounds. Meaty whacks, grunts, and curses, all harmonized by heaving lungs. There are shouts, bodies disentangling themselves, and then feet pounding towards the train. Dean’s once safe seat against the wall now feels like a cell. He doesn’t have an exit available. He contemplates moving to the outer seat, or down the row to the seats facing the interior, or even standing. Too late. Four rowdy men tumble into the car. He shrinks down into the seat, hoping to blend in, or at least not attract attention. He really should stop wanting things. 

Almost instantly, Dean becomes the target of a wild, black-haired man. Intense, kohl-rimmed eyes lock on him, pinning him in place. A wickedly toothy grin takes over tan skin, stretching full, pink lips. Dean’s lizard brain, where his previously asleep flight instinct lives, shoots a cocktail of hormones through his body to get him moving away from danger. Unfortunately, there’s nowhere to go. He tries to take measured, deep breaths to control his heartrate, but his lungs are having none of it. 

The jangle of chains accompanies the man on his way toward Dean. Vaguely, he can hear the other men talking over each other, laughing and competing for attention as they slouch into seats at the front of the car. Only his stalker is silent. Dean looks away, trying to break the electric connection. His eyes pop right back without his permission. 

As he gets closer, Dean can see a chain around his neck: not a necklace, but a chain with a lock. He has small barbells through his left brow, and his worn black motorcycle jacket covers an old, faded Iggy Pop shirt. The stretched-out neckline slides low enough to catch the edges of some intriguing lines of ink along his collarbone. On top of all that is a fine spattering of blood, mostly across his face and neck. 

The hairs on the back of Dean’s neck lift in awareness. Dean puts steel into his spine, tense and ready for whatever is about to happen. Fifteen feet away, the man slowly sits in a backward-facing row, never once breaking his gaze. The leather of his coat creaks as he spreads his arms out over the back of the seat. Dean isn’t fooled by the nonchalance. Raw power, aggression, and recklessness roll off him in waves. Intelligence and curiosity, terrifying in one so savage, pierce through Dean from striking deep blue eyes. He’s never felt so much like prey. He doesn’t mean to stare back, but taking his eyes off this predator seems foolish. He doesn’t dare move for fear of his reaction. The man stares back without any sign of discomfort. In fact, he licks his lips as a nasty little smirk creeps into his features. 

At the next stop, the men at the front of the car get ready to step off the train. 

“Yo, Castiel! You comin’ or what?” 

“I think I’ll stay. I’m loving the view.” Innuendo coats his words, sticky and thick. 

Dean shivers at his obvious interest, and without his consent, his body shows interest of its own. His cock twitches as arousal caresses his skin. He can’t keep images from forming in his mind; he can easily picture the wild, rough sex. He can feel the desperate lust that would be returned without hesitation. He can almost feel bruises forming on his hips, the brutish pounding of being taken by this gorgeous thug. 

Too soon, while Dean is lost in his daydreams, Castiel stands and heads toward the closest door. He hears the tell-tale screeching of brakes again. Relief wars with disappointment that he appears to be leaving. Watching him closely, Castiel stops and tilts his head, contemplating. Before the doors open, he changes his trajectory, and instead makes his way toward Dean, as if he changed his mind because of something he saw in Dean’s face. 

‘Shit,’ Dean thinks. ‘Why can’t I just mind my own business?’ 

He comes closer this time, much closer. He doesn’t stop until he is gripping the tops of the seats on either side of where Dean is sitting. Dean’s heart races as his only exit is blocked. It won’t do to have this predatory man loom over him. He has to level the playing field in any way that he can. He stands quickly, facing him with a set jaw. Castiel’s eyebrows raise in surprise, but his eyes show approval. 

He doesn’t waste time with small talk. He gets right to the point. “What are you doing in this part of the city, pretty boy?” 

“Why do you want to know?” 

Castiel shrugs, eyes lowered as he takes a step closer. Dean tries to contain the twitch of muscles that looks too much like a flinch. He lifts his eyes again. “I’m just curious why such a...” 

His eyes roam over Dean’s body looking for the right descriptor. “...wholesome guy is in such a dangerous place. It seems like you might be looking for trouble.” 

Dean shakes his head curtly. “No trouble. I work here.” 

He inches forward and this time Dean holds steady. “Really? They have a lot of country clubs down here?” 

Dean clenches his jaw and remains quiet. 

“I’m sorry. That was rather presumptuous of me.” Reading Dean’s look of surprise, he snidely replies, “Yeah, that’s right, college-boy. I can use big words, too.” 

Dean scowls, “I was surprised by the apology, not your vocabulary.” 

Castiel tilts his head to the side again, attempting to place Dean in the right box. “So, if not a country club, where do you work?” 

“I run a mentoring program for at-risk youth. We work out of St. Augustine’s” 

Even as the words are spoken, he is at odds with himself about giving too much information to this man. On one hand, duh. On the other hand, though, he lives here and probably knows some kids that need Dean’s help. Hell. It isn’t the first time he’s done something incredibly stupid to help a kid in trouble. It isn’t even the first time this week, if he’s honest. 

For a brief moment, that could actually be explained away by the trick of the lights, Castiel’s eyes soften into something affectionate. Dean blinks and it is gone, like it never happened. He furrows his brow, wondering if he imagined it, and misses the other man stealing another few inches of space. 

“Is that right?” Castiel leans forward, speaking quietly, “What’s your name, sweetheart?” 

Dean looks down slightly into his heated gaze. He is captivated and couldn’t lie if he wanted to, self-preservation be damned. “Dean.” 

“Dean,” He tests it out a few times, like savoring something delicious. It thrills Dean to hear his name roll around that deep gravel, even more so to feel fingers brush his hip. 

“Strong name. Very all-American.” 

“Thank you?” 

He lets a brilliant smile flash momentarily, and it falls away to seduction. He bites his lip and looks up through smoky lashes. “You’re incredibly beautiful, Dean.” 

His thank you this time sounds breathy. Dean clears his throat to regain some dignity before he replies. “You’re easy on the eyes yourself. Castiel, is it?” 

“Cas,” he corrects. “Normally I don’t pay attention to the clean-cut type. Too much trouble. But-” Cas pops the ‘b’ dramatically. “There’s something about you...” 

Dean wonders if this ‘something’ is going to get him killed. He stays as close to motionless as possible until he gets a clearer picture of what it is that Cas wants. His own brain is currently at war with itself over what he wants. His lizard brain, that should still be focused on flight, has wilted into a puddle of goo at the proximity of this dominant, dangerous creature. All it wants is to be taken and owned. His rational brain, on the other hand, is trying to create more of that adrenaline panic to snap him out of it. It is screaming at him, ‘This is how missing people go missing, you dumb ass!’ 

“You know that you could really get hurt being down here all alone at night.” 

Dean can’t decide if it is concern or warning in his voice. His heart and lungs finally catch on that he might need an escape route after all. “Is that a threat?” 

Cas grips his hip a little tighter, possessively, and leans in by his ear to speak quietly. “Don’t freak out, Bambi. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

“What do you want from me?” 

Dean leans back away from him to see his face, which is as far away as he is allowed to move. He needs to see if there is any sign of deception in his eyes when he answers. Not that he knows what that would look like. He knows nothing about Cas. He still needs to see it. 

“Well, sweetheart, my friends and I just came from a brawl on the platform, and I’m sure you know how horny a fight can make someone.” 

Dean shakes his head in denial. He’s never been in a fight. He’s never put his hands on someone in anger. 

Cas quirks an eyebrow at him in challenge. “Really, Dean? You have no knowledge of that physical reaction?” 

Dean swallows hard and the eyes on him narrow. Dean feels a palm slide to the front of his pants and cradle his now completely erect dick. He sucks in a breath as Cas speaks. 

“It’s an adrenaline response. You’re in a scary situation and your body reacts.” 

Cas keeps rubbing slowly, and every pass pulls another inhibition down, crumbling his defensive walls easily. Even with the amazing friction, he tries to remain in control. ‘Stop letting him touch you!’ he chastises himself. ‘Tell him no!’ The only sound out of his mouth is a shuddered moan. 

Pleased is a good look for Cas. He wears it well. He keeps talking to Dean as his eyes lower in lust. “Do you always get so turned on when you’re afraid, Dean?” 

“No.” 

Cas looks down at his body to watch where his hands roam freely. He keeps one hand on the heat of his groin, while one comes up into Dean’s hair. He growls, “So this is all for me, then?” 

When Dean nods and breathes, “Yes,” Cas yanks his head back by his hair, exposing his throat. Cas attacks it, licking and nipping along the side. Dean is caught in his orbit. He can’t exert any will of his own, just lets Cas have his way. Just under his jaw, Cas sucks hard, leaving a little mark that makes Dean gasp. Thinking about that little mark staying with him after tonight pulls a guttural groan up from the depths. He’s more than a little embarrassed by his overwhelmed response to such simple touches. 

Dean doesn’t have time to date. It’s been months since he was touched in any kind of sexual way, and Cas is hitting every nerve, every hot spot. Cas coos at him, “So responsive, Dean. You really need this, don’t you?” 

“Yes. God, yes.” 

Dean reaches for him, and he is immediately reminded why this is a bad idea. His hand doesn’t make contact before Cas grabs his wrist harshly and holds it away. His eyes go hard, nostrils flare, and he shakes his head. His only explanation, “Don’t.” 

Dean’s eyes widen in shock and confusion. He doesn’t ask. He instinctively knows better. Instead, he freezes. 

Cas rubs his hand roughly over his face and sighs. “This is a one-way street. Just...don’t.” 

He doesn’t really wait for Dean’s response, as if he knows he will accept the terms, whatever they are. It stings a little that Cas assumes he’s so desperate that he won’t balk at the weird request. It stings more to know that he’s right. 

It’s the work of a few moments to drag them both back under. When Dean gasps at a particularly hard nip, Cas takes advantage and kisses him. It quickly devolves into messy, deep kisses that Dean wants to hold onto. Only, he can’t, and when Cas pulls back to breathe, Dean whimpers. 

Cas chuckles on a groan, “Fuck, you even taste like apple pie. Unbelievable.” 

He dives back in for more groping kisses as he backs Dean into the window, swallowing his desperation. Cas nips down his throat again, this time with more pressure. His hands clear the path ahead of his mouth, and when a nail catches on Dean’s sensitive nipple, his back arches up on a moan. Cas zeroes in on the response like he’s found treasure. With a gleeful look, he rips apart the button-down shirt keeping him from his prize. Dean is so lust-drunk that he can’t muster any reaction other than, “Fuck, Cas.” 

Cas is too busy tonguing his left nipple to respond to him. Dean lets his head slam back into the glass behind him. Cas’s mouth is creating dizzying sensations, licking, teasing, and sucking on the reddening flesh. Dean’s nipples have an express lane connection directly to his cock, and when Cas bites down, his eyes slip closed. 

Cas switches sides to offer attention to the other nipple that is stiffened already in anticipation. At the first touch, Dean lets out an obscene sound. Cas smiles, “Sing for me, choir boy.” 

Dean huffs out a laugh. “Keep doing that and I’ll serenade you all night.” 

Cas lavishes wet kisses all the way down his abdomen while gripping him tightly around the back and hips. It is all Dean can do to keep his hands to himself. He keeps lifting them, only to force them back to his sides. Both of them are fisted in the fabric of his jeans now, which Cas notices as he pops the button open. “Having trouble, sweetheart?” 

Dean looks down to meet his eye. Oh fuck. Cas’s lips are shiny with spit, kiss-swollen and perfect. His eyes are glowing now, vivid like stained glass on a sunny day. Seeing him on his knees is all it takes for Dean’s dick to add another pearl of pre-come to the pool of wetness. Even the blood spatters, dark confetti celebrating his violence, only serve to make Dean want him more. Words are beyond him. He can only nod in agreement. 

Wicked intent gleams from his face as he asks, “Can you keep your hands to yourself, or am I going to have to do it for you?” 

Something in that look is begging Dean to need his help. It’s hypnotic, and Dean can almost feel tightness on his wrists, restraining them. Dean is far gone in the haze of need, but he apparently possesses a tiny modicum of self-preservation. He shakes his head. “I’m good. I’ll be good.” 

“I’m sure you will be.” 

Cas turns his attention to Dean’s zipper, and then sliding both his jeans and boxers down over his ass. Dean shivers when he feels light fingers brush over his cleft. When his cock pops free, Cas moans, the first lustful sound he’s allowed to escape. “You’re a big boy, aren’t you? This is going to be fun.” 

Cas licks his lips before taking his first taste. He doesn’t do tentative. He plunges Dean’s cock into his mouth, loosely to avoid too much friction. Dean’s hands jump to card through Cas’s feathery hair, but he forces them up and into his own instead. At each bob of Cas’s head, Dean’s grip gets tighter. If that gorgeous mouth gets any better, Dean might end up with some bald spots. Totally worth it. 

An obscene pop heralds Cas snarling, “Get the fuck out!” 

Dean comes to like he’s been hit by ice water. His head jerks towards the doors and he realizes that not only had the train come to a stop, the doors had opened, and passengers were about to board. Were. Now they are moving swiftly down the platform to another car far down the line. 

“Holy shit!” Dean whispers in panic. 

Cas is shushing him, using his touch to gentle him. “They’re gone, we won’t be disturbed again.” 

“How do you know that?” he snaps. 

“That’s the last stop until the commuter line. We’ve got plenty of time.” 

Dean settles slowly. It takes a particularly skillful swirl of Cas’s tongue to get his head back in the game. He finally slumps against the wall and window, letting the train carry his weight because his legs want to give out at the suction on his cock. “Fuck, that is amazing.” 

Cas hums, sending vibrations up his body as one hand drops to cradle his scrotum and put pressure up on his perineum. Dean chokes out another lewd sound. Cas takes the not so subtle hint and continues rubbing the spot firmly, even as he pulls off to ask, “You don’t happen to have a condom with you, like a good boy scout?” 

Dean’s distress is answer enough, and Cas just chuckles, “Of course you don’t. I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

Cas leans forward and swipes the tip of his tongue into the slit of Dean’s cock head. “I guess we’ll have to be content with this then, won’t we?” Cas slips back down, taking Dean deep. 

Babbling, Dean answers, “Yeah, content. I’m content. Super content.” 

Cas looks up at him with a look that has him pressing his lips together in silence. How he manages to command while he’s on his knees with a cock shoved down his throat, Dean hasn’t a clue. But Cas manages it with ease. That’s his last coherent thought before Cas picks up his pace and creates a breathtaking vacuum. 

Dean can feel the wave coming. His body is tightening, every muscle straining towards a common goal. “Cas, I’m close. Fuck. I’m gonna come.” 

Dean puts his hands back on his own head to avoid temptation. When Cas makes no move to pull off, Dean looks down with sudden intense interest. He has to see it. He has to watch Cas swallow him down. His heart might stop, but he’ll take the risk. 

He hovers at the cusp, trembling with the rush of endorphins flowing through him. All it takes to push him over is for Cas to glance up at him. 

A shout is punched out of him. “Fuck! Oh, fuck. I’m- I’m coming! Cas, oh god.” 

Cas moans around the pulsing cock, drinking down everything Dean gives him. When the last wave rolls over him, Cas pulls away and stands up. With hooded eyes, he sticks his tongue out to show Dean the last of his pearly come before he swallows it down. Dean’s brain goes offline at the sight. His jaw hangs open. 

Cas helps him sit down in the seat while he opens the fly of his jeans. His voice is strained and breathy, “Can I come on you, Dean?” 

Dean is fucked out, blissed out, and can’t do anything but grin. 

With nothing beneath his jeans to hinder him, Cas pulls his cock out and starts to stroke it quickly. Dean gets a good eyeful and manages to comment, “And you called me a big boy? Damn, Cas.” 

Cas winks at him, climbing up to straddle his lap. “Yeah, too bad we didn’t have a condom, huh? You’d have felt me for days, sweetheart.” 

Cas swallows Dean’s agonized sound of disappointment with a searching kiss. It only takes a couple of minutes before Cas is panting hard and can’t maintain it. Dean is dying to put his lips on him, especially at the hint of ink showing at his throat, but refrains. He isn’t sure how Cas would take it, and the last thing he wants to do right now is make him angry. 

“I’m almost there, Dean. Can I come on your chest? I want to see those red, puffy nipples covered in my come.” 

Dean breathes his agreement. “Fuck, yeah. Do it, Cas. Please.” 

A deep growl reverberates through Cas as his cock jumps. Dean can’t decide which is better, the look on Cas’s face as he gives himself over to ecstasy, or watching the white ribbons splash against his skin. The heat of his come drags out a contented sigh, and before Cas is even done painting him with it, Dean’s hand slides up to rub through it. Cas might not let Dean touch him, but this was given to him and it is his to touch. 

Cas’s eyes slide lower. “That is really fucking hot, sweetheart.” 

They trade fucked out kisses, sated and slow for a few blissful minutes. Too soon, Cas climbs out of his lap and tucks himself away. 

Dean knows that Cas is not dating material. Hell, he shouldn’t have even let the man touch him, let alone suck him off and come on him. Dean can’t regret anything that happened, though. It isn’t often that he gets to have public sex. Okay, never. It’s never happened before. He’s never wanted anyone that desperately before. It was spontaneous, incredibly hot, and it would feature prominently in his fantasies for years, if not forever. But he can’t let himself want anything else. That’s all this was. 

Still, he finds himself dreading the screeching sound of the brakes. Cas leans down for one last kiss, and brushes his thumb over Dean’s bottom lip. “See you around, Dean.” 

With that, he’s gone. 

Dean looks down at himself once Cas is out of view. His shirt is shredded with most of the buttons missing. There are hickeys dotting his chest, complimenting the abused nipples now covered in sticky come. His jeans are still down around his knees, with his spent cock laying out on his thigh. He’s the epitome of debauched. With a filthy grin, he laughs, “Son of a bitch.”


	2. We Meet Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fancy meeting you here...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter One of this story was originally posted as a one shot, but as I was writing, an entire story bombarded me. I asked your opinions about continuing, and the overwhelming majority said yes.  
> So, here is chapter two. 
> 
> Enjoy!

It’s been days since the incident on the subway, and Dean has put it completely out of his mind. That’s what he’s choosing to call it. An incident - clinical and detached. The connotation being that it was an accident, a simple disturbance in the normal rhythm of his life. Incident as in a one-time event. Incident as in he has achieved the proper emotional distance between it and himself. 

Fuck. Who is he kidding? 

He can’t stop thinking about Cas. Not a single hour has gone by when he hasn’t replayed every minute of their little tryst in vivid detail. He isn’t sure what he finds hotter: the combustible chemistry between them, the danger of getting caught, or the man himself. Remembering the smoky eyes centered with luminous blue looking up from their position at his feet forces a shiver down Dean's spine. 

‘Breathe. It isn’t going to happen again.’ Thinking about it brings such a soul-deep yearning that it feels cancerous. Something this intense would have to be chewing through his bones, wouldn’t it? The ache to be the center of someone else’s universe. The desire to not be alone, to feel that electrifying connection arching between them. 

He repeats the mantra once again. He pictures floating on the sea, being pushed and pulled by the wave. If he stops fighting, he will just move with it. It isn’t until he tries to force himself against the momentum of the waves that he starts to tire. And damn is he tired. 

A full morning of intakes at the hospital wasn’t depressing enough. Afterward, he had hours of cases to manage, which ended with a spectacular cluster fuck of a home visit, confirming that yet another foster child had been beaten. His eyes go glassy in a weak moment, and he blinks himself back into control. He promised himself a long time ago that if he ever saw a child hurt and didn’t feel this helpless fury, he would find a new career immediately. Looks like he’s got at least another day in him. 

Movement in front of him drags him out of his head. He is supposed to be at St. Augustine’s in twenty minutes, but he had to stop and pick up an energy drink. Normally, he doesn’t drink them because they are terrible for growing and developing kids, and he wants to be a good role model. Today, though, he needs something to get him through the game. 

He promised Jesse that they would play street hockey, which is the only activity the kid is interested in, and the only way to get him to come by so Dean can check on him. The last time he showed, the sixteen-year-old had been so high that Dean had been forced to turn him away. It is the one rule that he couldn’t waver on. He turns a blind eye to weed, but anything else could spell trouble for the entire program. He can’t put dozens of kids in jeopardy for the poor choices of one kid. 

He tosses crumpled dollars and a few coins down on the counter with a friendly smile. The bleary-eyed clerk takes his money but not his kindness. Dean shrugs it off and heads to the door, but before he can push the handle, it swings outward with force. 

He hears the voice before he sees the man’s face. The voice from his dreams, calling him choir boy. Dean’s mouth falls open a bit in shock, coupled with rapidly blinking eyes. Has his ridiculous pining turned into full-blown hallucinations? When the man turns, he stops dead. The other two men flank him immediately, obviously expecting trouble and used to backing up their friend. 

“Cas?” Dean asks quietly, still not sure if the vision is real or caused by a psychotic break. 

For his own part, Cas looks just as shocked. He hides it quickly, though. A smug grin quickly covers, “Hey there, Bambi.” 

Cas glances over his shoulder to look at his back up, and jerks his head inside. Without a word, the two men push past them, one of them bumping Dean’s shoulder none too gently. Dean clenches his jaw at the posturing, but does nothing else. 

“Sorry about that,” Cas scowls. “They’re a little...” He trails off in the middle of his sentence, looking at Dean with fascination. 

“What are the odds?” he asks, intensity focused entirely on the man in front of him. 

Dean, for his part, just takes his fill. He consumes Cas with his eyes, trying to memorize every fading detail that he had begun to forget. He takes in a heavy, deep breath as he steps forward, inhaling what he can reach of his scent. He would love to take in the textures of him, too, but he knows that isn’t allowed. Finally, he finds his voice again. 

“It would be weirder if we weren’t technically in the same neighborhood where we met, but yeah, kind of surprising.” 

The electric sizzle of his nerves sharpens with each heartbeat, each breath. It’s familiar. This heady, out of control feeling from the train. He had thought at the time that it was adrenaline; fear setting him off. Now, he’s fairly certain it is just his proximity to Castiel. 

Cas quirks a lop-sided grin. “What are you doing right now?” 

“Heading to a street hockey game. It’s why I’m down here today.” 

Cas nods his head as he takes a couple of steps forward. “And after?” 

Dean gives a shy smile as Cas keeps encroaching. “I’m free. What did you have in mind?” 

The leer he receives sends warm shivers down his neck. “So many things, Dean. My mind is thrilling with the possibilities.” He lets his words marinate for a few moments, amping up the tension between them another degree. “But how about we start with a drink?” 

 

***** 

 

Just as he feared, Jesse had descended into black cloud ire by the time he jogged up to the bleachers. Once the teenager dipped his toes into the pool of angst, there wasn’t much hope of getting him out of it. After the first period, he tried to address the kid’s mood while gulping back some much-needed water. April was usually a lot cooler than this. 

“I got held up, Jesse. I work all over the city, and sometimes I can’t get here on time. You know this.” 

Okay, so if he hadn’t run into Cas, flirted through small talk, and exchanged numbers, he might have been here on time. Dean suppresses another goofy grin. It was totally worth whatever vitriol he has to take from the teen. 

“It’s fine. It’s not like I even expected you to show in the first place.” Dean turns his head before rolling his eyes. He is good with kids. Amazingly good, if he’s honest. He can typically reach even the most cynical, closed-off teen that everyone else has written off as hopeless. It doesn’t mean he enjoys the melodrama that comes with them. 

“Have I ever flaked out on you, Jess?” 

The skinny, gawky blonde in a Supreme hoodie pulls a face. “Eww. Don’t call me that.” 

Dean grins. “What about dude? Homie?” At this point, the boy is walking away shaking his head, but Dean can see the smile he is fighting. He slides his goalie mask in place and calls out loudly, affecting the stoner dialect, “How about brah?” 

He gets a giggle out of several kids on both teams. He knows they’re laughing at him, not with him, but that’s exactly the point. Let them unite against the lame old guy. Damn. They’ve got him thinking of himself as the old guy. When the fuck did that happen? He’s only twenty-five, for Christ's sake. The sooner this game is over, the sooner he can go find Cas. That will go a long way to prove how young and irresponsible he still is. “Alright, ladies,” he growls. “Second period. Billy, if you high stick one more time, I’m giving you a Nerf bat to play with.” 

 

***** 

 

Dean is late getting to the seedy bar, but not because he had trouble finding it. The outside walls are an obnoxious apple green. He’d bet it could practically glow in the dark. Inside, there is a long, wooden bar running the length of the narrow room and one row of tall, deep booths. Neither area is too busy, just a few locals scattered throughout, blowing off steam before they head home. At the end of the bar, facing the door, is Cas. His black hair almost disappears against the dim interior. His eyes flick up to greet him, and a satisfied smile leaches out the tense aggression from his face, making its sharp angles a touch softer and infinitely more approachable. 

“You look surprised to see me, Cas. Didn’t think I’d show?” Dean teases as he pulls out the stool next to him, subtly poking the tiger beneath the surface. He isn’t sure why this feels like an even playing field now. Maybe it’s that they are on neutral ground where they both agreed to meet. Maybe it’s because Dean is actually quite adept at seduction when he knows that’s what’s happening. It also might be that now he knows Cas’s skill; he’s sampled the goods, so to speak. He knows how utterly explosive it can be with this particular man, and he isn’t going to let a repeat performance elude him. 

Cas scans him from head to toe, comes to rest on his lips for a beat longer than necessary, and then finally meets his eye. “I was beginning to wonder. Why are you all wet?” 

After Dean orders a drink he explains, “Had to shower. I wouldn’t subject you to the sweaty mess I was after that game. I am a gentleman after all.” 

Cas leans in slowly, stopping just millimeters away from his ear. “Seems like a waste since I’m just going to get you all sweaty again, sweetheart.” 

Wolfish grins leer at each other when Dean turns. “Are you now?” 

“Mmm. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” 

Dean shrugs nonchalantly. They both know he’s full of shit. “Maybe. Or, maybe I’m secretly a missionary for the church, trying to rescue your soul.” 

Cas belts out a harsh laugh. “Too late, choir boy. There’s no rescuing this soul. It started out ripped to pieces, and since then it’s been burned, stabbed, and run over a few times.” 

Dean takes a sip of his Jameson’s and shakes off the burn. “It can’t be as bad as all that, Cas.” 

Cas tilts his head to the side with a narrowed gaze. “Don’t believe me? Can I interest you in some first-hand experience with just how corrupt and depraved I can be?” 

Dean almost chokes on his mouthful of Irish whiskey. Smooth, Winchester. He swallows hard and meets Cas’s eye. They stare for long moments, letting the current between them ignite again. Dean can already feel his heart pounding. He knows his lids are sliding lower and he can’t help but lick his lips. He wants a taste. Cas’s pupils are dilating, and his breathing is kicking up. There’s something intoxicating about seeing such obvious physical signs of desire. Dean sways toward him, hyper-focused on his mouth and his voice. “What did you have in mind?” 

Cas tsks him coyly. “What kind of missionary are you, tempting me to sin?” 

“Hmm. I see your point. I suppose I shouldn’t let you seduce me after all.” 

Cas grins around his glass. “As if you could resist.” 

Dean quirks an eyebrow at that. “Is that a challenge, Cas? I should warn you. I’m very competitive.” 

Cas drains his glass and stands. Dean feels his easy flirting skid headlong into confusion and panic. Did he say something wrong? It dawns on him that Cas is still a tabula rasa for him. He doesn’t know enough about him to read his cues. He has to fix this. He can’t let Cas leave. Dean is still reeling as his body turns when his legs are jerked to the side and held open, effectively forcing him to straddle Cas’s legs when he steps between them. 

Dean’s mouth is hanging open a little, brain still trying to catch up to the shift. Cas leans toward the bar to rest his hands on either side of Dean’s shoulders. His face is stern, his jaw set. Dean’s remembering how easy it was to fear him. He has to strain to hear Cas’s soft words over the rush of blood through his veins. 

“Do you know how often I’ve thought of you since we met on the train?” 

Dean shakes his head minutely. Even Cas’s rhetorical questions deserve answers. “Every fucking day. Several times a day. I’ve dreamed of you. I can’t get your taste out of my head, sweetheart, and I am practically foaming at the mouth to get more of it.” 

Dean is caught up in his ferocity, in how easily he’s laying himself bare to get to the heart of what they both want. His fevered skin is tingling with the urge to be touched. His jeans are tightening around his now steely erection. 

“Now, we can play games and pretend that we aren’t dying to fuck each other, or...” 

Dean nods dumbly, which is still better than the whimper he stifled. It doesn’t matter what his ‘or’ is going to be. Dean is on board. He’s so on board, he should be wearing a captain’s hat. 

“Good. So, you’re going to go down that hallway behind me, pass the bathrooms and take the second door on the left. The door will be open. I’ll be there in just a minute.” 

“O-Ok.” Dean is caught in wide-eyed, naked lust for this gorgeous creature. He scans his face again, taking in the up-close details. 

“Now, Dean,” Cas’s firm tone belies the smile on his lips. 

Dean stands, but Cas doesn’t move away. He is caging Dean in, and Dean has to practically bump him back out of the way. 

He wants to turn around and scope out the reactions of the other bar patrons. South Boston is hardly the most gay-friendly place on the Eastern Seaboard, and he feels none too secure giving his back to the room. He will just have to trust Cas to head off any problems. That thought twists in his gut. He’ll be literally giving Cas his back soon; he had better get used to the idea. He walks on wobbly legs, but makes it into the hallway without incident. 

The storeroom is nicer than he would have thought, more of an employee lounge than just dry storage. There is an worn-in leather couch, which Dean eyes for its multiple possibilities. He paces, rubs anxious hands down his face. Damn, he is on edge. It feels like twenty minutes have passed. Where the hell is Cas? He is just starting to tip over into doubt when the door finally opens. 

He comes in, shuts the door and locks it before leaning back against it, watching Dean hungrily. 

“How did you know about this room?” Dean aims for small talk, but Cas isn’t fooled. 

“I worked here. Still pick up shifts when the owner needs someone.” 

Dean’s out of words. There’s too much space between them. Too many unknowns. He just wants Cas to be touching him, and he doesn’t know how to make that transition. Thankfully, Cas does. He pushes off the door and approaches quickly. He tangles a hand in Dean’s hair, reeling him in. He goes willingly. When their lips finally meet again, Dean’s knees want to give with relief. He huffs out a desperate sound as the feel of Cas’s tongue rubs against his bottom lip, feeling immediately overcome. 

Dean opens for him, letting him invade and conquer. He feels the tight grip in his hair and moans. Cas breaks the kiss when they get breathless. “Goddamn, Dean. You still taste like apple pie.” 

“It’s the whiskey.” 

“No, that is all you. Incredible.” 

Dean chuckles and takes another kiss. They build their lust in a feedback loop. Cas gives and Dean takes. Dean offers up and Cas demands more. In the span of moments, they are panting into each other, blood crashing through bodies trembling with arousal. 

“Please tell me you have a condom.” Dean pleads. 

Cas grins and pulls a little packet out of his pocket. “I haven’t left my house without one since.” 

Dean laughs in relief. “Thank god.” 

Cas pops the button and zipper on Dean’s jeans with one hand while he walks them toward the couch. He stops to slide his palms over Dean’s firm ass, taking his jeans along with the sweet caress. “Thank god? Still after my soul, missionary?” 

Dean toes his shoes off beneath the jeans pooling at his ankles while teasing, “I won’t rest until you receive your heavenly reward.” 

Cas rests his hands on Dean’s hips as Dean whips the t-shirt over his head. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Cas breathes. His hands turn Dean to face the couch. He presses his front to Dean’s back, whispering in his ear and planting kisses down his neck. “On the couch. Get up on your knees for me.” 

Dean does as he’s asked, feeling a little vulnerable, but willing to trust. When Cas doesn’t follow, Dean turns to look at him. He’s watching Dean fondly, hands resting in his pockets. His gaze snaps Cas out of his reverie. “Sorry. Just enjoying the view.” 

“It’s fine. Look all you like.” 

Cas smooths his hands over Dean’s shoulders, fingertips gripping over biceps and curling around his elbows. He gently guides his arms forward, toward the back to the couch. “Hold on tight, sweetheart.” 

Cas gets to his knees on the floor, slipping fingers into the waistband of Dean’s boxer briefs and tugging. “I have a condom, but no lube. I’m going to have to open you up another way. You okay with that?” 

He brushes fingers along Dean’s flanks, waiting for his response. Dean almost chokes on his own spit in a rush to say yes. “Yes. Absolutely, yes,” he breathes. 

Cas chuckles and nudges Dean forward to get his ass at the right angle. As he plumps the firm, round cheeks, he revels in the man giving himself over. Beautiful is not the right word. Dean would make Michelangelo weep. Every line, every curve is perfection. He is going to enjoy this tremendously. 

Cas separates Dean’s cheeks, exposing the little knot of muscle, pink and tight. Dean is smooth here, manicured everywhere. He takes magnificent care of himself. Cas tongues him slowly, firmly, from just behind his balls, over his hole and all the way to his lower back. A guttural groan escapes Dean. “Fuck, that feels good. It’s been a long time.” 

Cas takes that as a challenge and dives into rimming Dean. He uses kitten licks at first, teasing him to relax. Once he feels the ring of muscle start to soften, he points his tongue and probes deeper. Dean is breathing out nonsense words of praise, which makes Cas smile. He slips a finger in beside his tongue, tugging at the edges of the rim to stretch him. Cas knows he is rather large, so prep is essential. It might take a while, so he’s glad that Dean seems to be lost in the process and not impatient to get on to the fucking. He might be a colossal asshole and a criminal, but he’s an overly-generous lover, and he won’t be content until Dean is wrecked under him. 

Dean leans his head on his forearms when Cas slips the finger deeper. The moan is long and meaningful. Speech is only coming out as broken syllables now. Dean can’t string them together. If his tongue and a finger feel this good, he can’t imagine what that monster cock is going to do to him. He’s lust-drunk already, eyes rolling back at every unyielding push of that magical tongue. He can feel the spit rolling out of him and slipping down his balls. He’s dripping with it, and he loves it. Lord help him, he would probably do anything Cas asked of him right now. 

Once Cas can get three fingers moving in a good rhythm with hardly any drag, he pronounces Dean ready. When he scoots back, he can’t help but toy with his loose, wet hole. Cas loves the feel of it giving way to him, loves it even more after a thorough fucking. He pops Dean firmly on the ass once he has his cock pulled out and sheathed. 

Dean surprises him by pushing back into the swat. That’s a thought for later. He’s been fiending to get into Dean; he’s become almost an obsession. He isn’t willing to wait for even another few seconds now that he’s here and ready to be fucked. The damn apocalypse couldn’t stop him. 

“Ready, sweetheart?” he asks sweetly as he pops the tip of his head in and out of Dean’s hole, which tries to grasp him and pull him in every time. 

“Fuck, yes,” he purrs over his shoulder. “Let me have it, Cas.” 

Cas doesn’t disappoint. He pushes forward steadily, relentlessly until he bottoms out. Dean’s spine goes rigid, and he huffs out a breathy shout. Cas moulds himself to Dean’s back, gentling him with his closeness and shushing noises. “Tell me when you’re ready.” 

Immediately, Dean confirms, “I’m good. I’m ready.” 

Cas withdraws slowly, building tension and relishing the drag of Dean’s tight channel. Damn. He is strangling Cas’s cock. He can feel the rippling muscles trying to keep him buried deep. His head tips back in agonized pleasure. 

Cas pushes in again, all the way to the hilt. He can’t believe how fucking amazing this feels. He would knee-walk across an ocean of broken glass to have this. “Holy shit, Dean.” 

A feral sound punches out of Dean when Cas slams his hips forward in a sudden pounding cadence. Dean cants his hips back into the rhythm, chanting, “Fuck, fuck. Cas. So good. Fuck.” 

Cas appreciates the obscene praise; it makes him work harder to get Dean over the edge before him. “Can you take it harder, Dean?” 

He nods, but his neck looks loose, like his head is on a swivel. Oh yeah, Dean is close already. After being eaten out so diligently, he imagines that Dean is on a hair trigger. Cas pulls his upper body to lean against his own, bracing him against the bruising tempo he’s about to deliver. Now he has a lovely view of Dean’s hand as it grips his cock. He’s holding it, but letting Cas’s thrusts do the work for him. 

Every snap of his hips resounds like a slap, followed by Dean’s punched out breath. His head slides to the side, buried against Cas’s neck. He is shaking violently and tries to give Cas a warning, every word on its own thrust. 

“Can’t hold it, Cas. I’m gonna come.” 

“Okay, sweetheart. Come for me.” 

Watching Dean free-fall through his orgasm and crash into the waves is breathtaking. Cas almost forgets to keep chasing his own climax. Dean’s muscles are milking his cock, though, which is more than enough reminder. He slows his pace, savoring the gripping, pulsing squeeze around him. His own orgasm sneaks up on him, ripping through him with a sharp shout. “Fuck, Dean.” 

Breathless and floating with endorphins, Dean feels the strong pulsing of Cas’s cock. He hums his approval. He wishes that he could feel the warm splash of come filling him. It’s not possible, but he thinks it would be amazing to feel. 

They stay still, panting and sweaty while they come down from their respective highs. It is a moment that doesn’t need words, so none are offered. When Cas starts to pull out, Dean flinches. “Fuck, Cas. If I wasn’t bow-legged already, I would be now.” 

Cas chuckles while he gets up to dispose of the condom. “Too much?” 

Dean smiles at him. “No way. That was incredible.” 

Cas leans forward to hand him his jeans and shirt that he scooped up off the floor on his way back. He plants a firm but gentle kiss on his lips. “Yeah, that was...fuck. Mind-blowing.” 

Dean dresses quietly. Cas can see him putting up walls, which stings, surprisingly. Normally, this is the part where he’s itching to make excuses and get out the door. Not so now. 

“I hate to fuck and run,” Dean says sheepishly, “But I’ve got to catch the “T” to Back Bay and I have a long day tomorrow.” 

Cas might have been offended if he hadn’t been able to see the genuine regret on Dean’s face. And what the fuck is that about? He needs to put some distance between them. Dean is not going to date him. Not that he dates. ‘Get your shit together, Castiel.’ 

“Can you stay for another drink?” So much for distance.

Dean grins. “Yeah, that sounds good.” 

Cas orders their drinks while Dean cleans up in the bathroom. He feels his presence before he appears. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Dean sit on the stool very gingerly. He grins with smug pride. 

Dean notices it. “Shut up,” he grouses. He hisses when he puts all of his weight down. 

“Should I try to find a cushion for your tender ass?” 

Dean flips him off and takes a sip. He looks pissed on the surface, but Cas can see the flush across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He can also see the tip to the corners of his mouth. Dean is blissed out and sated. The grumbling is just to save face. They chat for a few minutes, getting to know each other through sharing stories, small pieces of their puzzles. 

When Dean finishes his drink, Cas says quietly, “I really enjoyed tonight. You surprised me.” 

Dean’s eyebrows jump. “Well thanks, Cas.” 

Cas rolls his eyes. “I just meant that you aren’t what I expected.” 

Dean smirks at him. “I’m not nearly as clean cut as you like to believe.” 

Cas snorts at that. “Yeah, you just scream rebel, Dean.” 

Dean levels a glare at him. “I’m actually pretty kinky, Cas.” 

“Really? Tell me your kinkiest secret then, sweetheart.” 

He tips his glass up for a sip just as Dean leans in to his ear and whispers, “If you beat my ass cherry red before you fuck me, I’ll come untouched.” 

Cas sputters and almost chokes on an ice cube. Dean slaps him on the shoulder with a wicked grin. 

“See you around, Cas.” 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are magical. Please leave one.
> 
> [Find me on Tumblr here](https://angelaland.tumblr.com)


	3. Confess Your Sins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas asks for Dean's help for a friend and gives some assistance of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please pay attention to the tags. 
> 
> If you are religious at all, this chapter might offend you. 
> 
> Nothing blasphemous happens until the end of the chapter, so if read until they enter the church, you will be fine. I'll add notes at the end to give a brief description of what happens after that point, but it doesn't really affect the plot at all.

Cas is sitting cross-legged on top of the cemetery wall, sketchbook open and pencil frantically moving, almost without his input. He’s adding layers of intricate shading to the drawing, seeing how it will look rendered as a tattoo. He has created the art for every tattoo on his body, and this is the latest of many. The black roses are photo-realistic and will follow a grayscale gradient up from his left wrist to his forearm. From the top of the image, sunbeams stream down to the flowers. 

There is only one tattoo artist who can duplicate his work close to perfectly, so she is the only one he will allow to touch him. The little pixie, Meg, has a personality more in line with a demon than a fairy, despite her diminutive size. He’s known her for years, another shining example of what happens to impressionable children forced to live in a group home. 

The image of the roses, like all of his art, represents a change in him. Without consciously making the choice, he’s opening up. After years of isolation, he’s suddenly exposing himself to new people, new situations; he’s actively seeking out camaraderie without any ulterior motives. He couldn’t say what started it exactly, just that in the past few months, he’d begun to feel lonely. The dysphoria of being around people had felt less prominent, and often easily counteracted. So, yeah. Black roses opening up to the sun. 

Sketching is actually a cover for his true purpose. He asked Claire to meet him here because he wants her to talk to Dean. She doesn’t know that. If she knew what he had planned, she never would have come. So, he has to lie. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s lied to the kid, and it probably won’t be the last. It’s for her own good, though, he rationalizes. 

Although Claire is seventeen now, he remembers her as she was when they both lived in the Walsh's fourth floor hovel. She couldn’t have been more than five or six years old then, with her flossy baby-fine blonde hair and huge, guileless blue eyes. His heart had broken every time he saw a sad look of resignation steal away another bit of her exuberant innocence. He would have snatched her away from that horrid pit of filth, but he had only been twelve himself. There was nowhere he could go with her that wouldn’t have made both of their situations worse. Instead, he stayed there with her as long as he could. Despite his own personal discomfort, when she came to him with her quivering chin, begging for her ‘Cat’ to pick her up, he always did. He lost track of the number of times she cried herself out with her face buried against his chest. 

When he was arrested for the first of many burglary charges at the age of fourteen, he belatedly realized that being sent to juvie would take him away from Claire. His biggest regret in life was not being able to say goodbye to that sweet little girl in pigtails, to explain why he couldn’t be her ‘Cat’ anymore. When he was released almost two years later, he bee-lined back to the Walsh’s to see her. He makes it a point to see her often, and she is the only person in the world he considers family. 

Last week at the bar, after the most glorious sex he’s ever had, Dean had filled him in on his mentorship program. Dean understands the plight of teenagers in the system better than most of the so-called advocates. Most services aren’t available to minors without the approval or request of their guardian. When those guardians either don’t exist or are the ones that the teens are trying to get away from, there isn’t a way to get some services. So, in addition to offering at-risk teens a place to feel safe and listened to, Dean uses his extensive contacts throughout the city to get what they need. He also has a burgeoning apprenticeship program, which matches tradespeople with hopeful apprentices in the community. 

"You look like a gargoyle up there.” Cas had gotten so caught up in his art that he didn’t hear her approach. He smiles down on her and gathers his worn backpack. 

“Yeah? You look like a bitch down there.” 

“Nice, Cas.” 

He lands easily from the hop and gives her a once over as they start to walk. Her clothes are clean-ish, she’s not high, she looks rested. All things considered, he’s content with that much. 

“Can you tell me why you dragged me down here now?” 

“I want you to meet someone.” He nods with his head toward the church next to the graveyard. 

She stops dead in her tracks. “Wait. You aren’t trying to convert me, are you?” 

He actually snorts at that. “No, I have no intentions of dragging you kicking and screaming to heaven’s gates. My friend works here.” 

Claire squints at him. “Okay, two things. Is your friend a priest?” 

“No. Emphatically not a priest.” Cas can’t help the lewd smile that creeps up as he remembers the unholy things he and Dean have gotten up to. 

“Eww. Gross. TMI, dude.” 

Cas winks to tease her. “And the other thing?” 

“I know all of your friends. They aren’t exactly ‘work in a church’ material.” 

“Friend might be a bit of a stretch. We’re acquainted.” 

Claire rolls her eyes. “So I gathered from the salivating.” 

Before they round the corner, they can hear rough shouts and scattered laughter. The three rows of bleachers in front of the faded basketball court are full. The game in progress looks heated, as players on both sides are aggressive and focused. Among them, shirtless with tan skin glowing in the sunlight, is Dean. It doesn’t escape Cas’s notice that Dean’s teammates are the smaller, less athletic group. He smiles at the thought of him picking them with intention to bolster their confidence. 

Claire watches Cas with intense interest. The look of fond admiration on his face is completely out of character. She tracks the trajectory of his gaze. The only one on the court who isn’t jailbait must be Cas’s ‘friend’. He’s fucking hot, to be sure. Looks have never turned Cas’s head, though. In fact, he usually gets defensive and closed off around anyone too...take your pick: too pretty, too rich, too smart. This guy, though, has Cas tied in knots. She smirks. She’ll be on her best behavior because she doesn't want to blow anything for Cas, but she is going to exist to give him shit about his new crush. Come to think of it, this is the first time she's known about anyone that Cas was into. Cas has never had a boyfriend. Huh. 

After a blatant foul by one of the bigger teens, Dean pulls him aside and speaks quietly to him. He looks suitably chastised and heads over to the makeshift bench. Dean looks up and catches sight of Cas. He blinks a few times in surprise, and then a magnificent smile breaks on his face. Cas sucks in a breath at the sight of it. Something tight and aching pulls in his chest. 

Dean jogs over to the chain link fence separating them and Cas closes the gap while Claire hangs back. “Hey, Cas.” 

“Hello, Dean,” he smirks. 

“What are you doing here?” Not defensive at all, he asks with open curiosity. 

“I wanted you to meet a friend. I think you might be able to help her.” 

A brief flash of disappointment crosses his face, but the smile replaces it quickly. “Sure. Of course. Can you wait for about ten more minutes?” 

Cas nods and Dean turns. Before he takes a step, he’s turning back to look in Cas’s eyes. He says earnestly, “It’s good to see you, Cas.” 

Cas can't help but tease. He leers and says, “It’s good to see so much of you, Dean.” 

Dean rolls his eyes and heads back to the court. 

When Cas takes a seat beside Claire, she comments quietly, “Damn, Cas. It’s like he climbed out of an Abercrombie ad.” 

He leans back on his hands, stretching out. “Unreal, isn’t he?” 

“He must be dumb as a rock, then, right?” 

“No. College graduate. BU.” 

“Damn.” Claire brings her legs up and rests her chin on them. He’s obviously a nice guy, too, or he wouldn’t be spending his free time with runaways and burnouts. “Is he a serial killer?” 

Cas snorts. “No, I don’t think so. Like I said, we’re more acquaintances than anything. If I disappear suddenly, keep this conversation in mind, though.” 

Claire watches Cas. “You really like him, don’t you?” 

His smile turns melancholy. “We’re just fucking around. He’s way out of my league.” 

“Like always, you don’t give yourself enough credit.” 

“What is it that I should give myself credit for? My debilitating intolerance for touch, my moderately successful burglary skills, or my empty bank account?” 

“How about your amazing artistic skills, your kind heart, your sense of humor?” She bumps his shoulder with hers. “Plus, you’re kind of a badass.” 

She notices the slight blush across his nose and his lips tugging at the corners. “Getting into brawls doesn’t make me a badass, Claire.” 

“No, but when you get into a brawl to teach a rapist a lesson? That’s badass.” 

“Please don’t make me out to be a hero,” he pleads with all seriousness. “I robbed a convenience store last week, just minutes after I made a date with that beautiful Adonis over there. I held a gun on a man and took his money. What do you think he would say if he knew that?” 

“Don’t tell him.” 

“Well, no shit. That’s not the point.” 

“Cas, if there’s something between you...” 

“Drop it, squirt. You know I don’t do relationships.” 

Claire goes back to watching the game, settling into being on the periphery of a crowd. The bleachers are filled with kids around her age. She recognizes a couple of them from around the neighborhood. One of the girls was in her homeroom class a couple of years ago, and now she’s holding a newborn. The thought of being in her situation sends goosebumps down her arms. Yet another thing she can thank Cas for. When she was twelve, he pulled her aside and gave her a talk that terrified her. He gave her the honest, no punches pulled version of what could happen to teen girls who didn’t protect themselves. It had made an impression. 

Holy shit. She can’t be seeing who she’s seeing. He’s supposed to be locked up, like permanently. She taps Cas’s knee and whispers, “Is that Michael?” 

Cas’s spine goes rigid. “Where?” 

“By the fence.” 

Cas scans faces intently until he confirms. “Fuck.” 

Michael Boyar is a dangerous, psychotic motherfucker. He was charged with stalking, raping, and killing two male prostitutes six months ago, so there’s no way he should be standing in the church yard. Cas, Claire, and just about any Southie kid from the streets know that his kills actually number in the dozens. The story goes that his first victim was his half-brother, Luke, when he was just seven years old. 

Cas follows the trajectory of his predatory gaze. When he realizes who has caught his perverse attention, fury crawls up his spine and clouds his brain with a crimson haze. Cas will not stand for Dean becoming a murder statistic in South Boston. His sets his jaw and walks around the fence to the edge of the court, directly opposite from where Michael is standing. He moves deliberately, making his presence known. With an intensely-focused glare, he crosses his arms over his chest, widens his stance, and tips his head down. Michael sees him, can feel that he is now being watched. He doesn’t acknowledge Cas, but his posture hunches slightly and he steps back. 

When the game ends, Dean jogs over to him, greeting him warmly. Cas doesn’t meet his eye but demands, “Kiss me.” 

Dean furrows his brow. Before he can form the question, Cas replies, “Just trust me. I’ll explain in a bit.” 

Dean leans in with a grin. “I’m not going to look this gift horse in the mouth.” 

He touches his lips to Cas’s, gentle and sweet. Cas remains focused over his shoulder, not really acknowledging the connection. He isn’t sure why Cas is posturing, but he isn’t going to let it continue. It’s one thing to be dominant, confident in demanding a kiss. That’s sexy as hell, and Dean is willing to oblige. It’s another thing to be aloof and unaffected. That won’t do at all. 

He slips his tongue along the seam of Cas’s full lips and then bites down, demanding both entrance and attention. Cas sucks in a breath, and there. Now Dean has his undivided attention. He steps into Cas, using his closeness as cover to lap at his lips again. 

Cas gets the message, and gives Dean what he wants. Gentle gives way to hungry. He grips sweaty hair and pulls him in roughly. Their buzzing, incendiary contact heats up, and Dean hums his approval around their tangling tongues. Recognizing that he’s still in front of kids, still technically working, he regretfully pulls away. 

“So, I hate to completely spoil the mood, but you said you wanted me to meet someone?” 

Cas smiles affectionately and kisses his forehead. He uses the moment to check in with the serial rapist in the audience. God damnit. Cas had hoped that staking a claim on Dean in front of him would be enough to make the psycho back off and turn his attentions elsewhere. Instead, he looks pissed off. More than that, he is glaring at Dean with righteous indignation, like he has been wronged and wants vengeance. Apparently, his interest in Dean has been building for some time, which makes him even more dangerous. 

“Yes, but first, I want you to look behind you after I walk away. There is a man standing to the side of the bleachers. Sandy blonde hair, red BU t-shirt. Get a good look at him, but don’t make it obvious.” 

When Dean acknowledges his request, Cas walks back towards Claire. She stands as he approaches, “Nice work, Romeo,” she chastises. “You really pissed him off now.” 

Dean approaches as he drops a shirt over his head and tugs it down. He introduces himself to Claire and then asks, “So, what’s with all the subterfuge?” 

Cas and Claire both fill him in on the basics, explaining who the man is and why he’s dangerous. Dean’s eyes go comically-wide at what they tell him. 

“Shit, that guy hangs around here all the time.” 

Cas scowls, “Do you remember when he started coming around?” 

Dean thinks, rubbing his hand distractedly over the back of his neck. “I want to say at least a month? I first remember him at a pick-up game like this one.” 

“What made you remember him?” Cas interrogates him like a detective, but Dean assumes he has reasons. 

“I don’t know, man. I guess because he stayed for the whole game and never talked to anyone or cheered or anything. He was just watching quietly. In this rowdy group, it stood out.” 

Cas and Claire share a look. Dean watches the silent conversation going on between them and gets fidgety. “Should I call the cops? Could he be after one of the kids here?” 

“No, absolutely don’t call them,” Claire says with a bitterness that must have a back story. 

Cas agrees, “The cops will just spook the kids, and you’ll lose the momentum you’re building here.” 

He doesn’t mention Michael’s obvious interest in Dean because he doesn’t want to scare him unnecessarily. After what he’s seen today, though, he will be watching Dean very closely. As it is, Cas wants to smooth out those frown lines marring the space between his brows. He won’t take any chances with the man’s safety, though. 

Cas decides to move this meeting on to its original purpose to get their minds off the potential stalker and get them out of his line of sight. 

“Claire, I wanted you to meet Dean because he is starting a training program for people interested in the automotive industry.” 

The scathing look of betrayal and mistrust that is aimed at him definitely shifts focus away from Michael. Cas is about to defend himself when Dean smoothly jumps in. 

“What type of cars are you into?” 

Claire keeps her hatred focused on Cas, but answers coolly. “Not cars. Bikes.” 

“Oh, I can totally see you on a bike. That makes sense,” he smirks. That snags her attention away. 

“Yeah?” 

“Absolutely. You look like you were born to ride an old chrome beauty like an Indian. Maybe a Triumph.” 

Her grin is infectious. “I’ve always wanted a Triumph Bonneville. That’s my dream bike.” 

Cas can’t believe how easily Dean hooked her. Evidently, he isn’t the only one susceptible to Dean’s ridiculous charms. Claire is looking at him like he’s the only one in the world that speaks her language. 

“If that’s what you want, you should rebuild one. They’re pretty easy to find at salvage yards.” 

Excitement glitters in her eyes and explodes across her face. “They are?” 

“Yeah. I know I’ve seen a few recently. In fact, I have a friend who owns a pretty big yard down here. I’ll give you his number and when you call him, tell him I referred you. He will give you a really good deal if he’s got one.” 

Claire is almost bouncing beside him as they walk to his makeshift office to get his gym bag. She’s even willing to smile at Cas. All is forgiven, apparently. “Oh my god, that would be so awesome! Can you imagine?” 

Dean pulls his phone out of his bag and scrolls for the number. She digs a receipt out of her purse to copy it down. “His name is Bobby, and he’s a gruff old coot, but he’s all bark.” 

Once Claire has the number, Dean subtly flips the script on her. “Do you have a place to work on it?” 

Her face drops. Predictably, to him at least, she hadn’t thought that far. He hums at that, sounding like he’s trying to think of a way to help. “It didn’t look like you were happy about Cas suggesting the training program I’m starting, but the guy teaching it is doing a motorcycle program starting in a couple of weeks, and it would give you a place to store the bike while you’re rebuilding it. Plus, he’s an incredible mechanic, so learning from him could really open some doors for you if that’s what you’re interested in pursuing.” 

She only has to contemplate it for a few seconds before she shyly asks for details about the program. Cas rolls his eyes at his stubborn as all hell pseudo-sister rolling over and showing her damn belly to Dean. He takes advantage of their distraction with the application. 

“Hey, Dean? Can I borrow your phone for a minute? Mine’s dead and I really need to make a call.” 

Dean hands it over with a smile and a wink and gets back to Claire’s questions. Smug bastard. 

Cas parks his bag on a bench in the hall and quickly opens it. Fishing out a little case full of tiny electronics, he unzips it and pulls out a GPS tracker. He’s listening to the conversation in the office while quickly and quietly opening the back of Dean’s phone. He attaches the adhesive tracker inside the cover and slides it back into place. Before he goes back, he calls the number of the Shannon Tavern as a cover, and then hangs up. 

It only takes a few minutes to get Claire squared away, but by then she is too excited to call Bobby and blab about Dean’s program to her friends to want to hang out with Cas like they had planned. Honestly, seeing Dean in his element changed the trajectory of his day, too, and he’s fine letting her bail on him. 

When they are all alone in his office, Dean can’t help but stare. When he first met Cas, he only had a two-dimensional quality. He saw a sexy but potentially violent man. As he gets to know him better, it’s like pushing a curtain open; he’s letting light in and slowly revealing the shadows and highlights that make him three-dimensional. Today, watching Cas with Claire, has shed more light on him than anything so far. He cares for that girl like family, and he’s willing to be the ‘bad guy’ to give her what she needs. Selfless, caring, and hot as fuck? Damn. 

“You’re really good at that,” Cas praises. 

“What’s that?” Dean gives him a flirty grin. 

Cas huffs out a breath. “Even though that was a thinly-veiled attempt to fish for compliments, I’ll oblige you because you helped my friend a lot today. You are amazing with these kids. You got her into a program that will help her find a career that she loves. You changed her life, Dean.” 

Dean blushes and ducks his head. Fuck. Just when he thought Dean couldn't get more adorable. 

“While I appreciate the ego-stroking,” Dean meets his eye with hunger and finishes, “I was just doing my job.” 

Cas stands up and leans forward on Dean’s desk, tilting his head to the side. “Maybe you’d appreciate some actual stroking instead?” 

Dean shivers at the dark promise rumbling in Cas’s lusty voice. He unconsciously licks his lips, and Cas’s eyes track the movement with desire. Dean pointedly glances up to the corner of the room. Cas tracks the movement and sees the security camera and its merrily flashing red light. 

“Dealing with kids? The church requires every room to be monitored,” he explains. 

“Anywhere not monitored?” Cas hints. 

Dean taps his fingers while he thinks, then suddenly stands up on the other side of the desk, leaning in as well. They are just inches apart. He lowers his lids with a wicked grin. “Follow me.” 

They wander down hallways, make a half dozen turns, and finally they are in the cavernous sanctuary. Cas notices several cameras watching every corner. He has seen banks that were less watched. Paranoia, thy name is the church. 

Dean turns to him suddenly, eyes shining with mischief. “On a scale of 1 to 10, how religious would you say you are, Cas?” 

A huffy laugh bursts out of him. “Uh, not at all. One of my foster dads forced us to make the Christmas and Easter tour. That’s about it. Why?” 

“I have an idea, but it is probably grounds for excommunication if not a guaranteed ticket to hell. You in?” 

Cas steps in close to whisper in his ear, “With that kind of hype, how can I possibly resist?” 

Dean chuckles and starts to grab his hand. As soon as their fingers touch, Dean realizes his error and pulls back. Without looking at Cas, he offers a quick apology and walks to the back of the room, a little of the giddy tension deflating between them. 

Cas sighs in resignation. So far, they’ve managed his weird aversion to touch by keeping Dean’s hands occupied elsewhere. When they fucked, Cas had turned Dean toward the couch so he would grab the back of it when Cas took him from behind. Just remembering that experience ratchets his lust back up. 

Until now, Dean hasn’t forgotten about not touching him. He doesn’t push, and he hasn’t even asked about Cas’s ‘rule’. He’s been more accepting than anyone else has ever been, more than Cas has a right to expect. He knows his luck is going to run out. Dean is the most responsive, sensual person he’s ever met. His needs aren’t getting met when they are together. Not entirely. If Cas wants to keep having these interludes with Dean, and holy shit does he ever, he’s going to have to get over his hang-ups. If only it was that easy. 

When he catches up to the gorgeous man, he’s leaning against a wooden door, looking nervous. It takes him cracking open the door for Cas to realize where they are. “A confessional?” he asks incredulously. 

“I told you it was blasphemous,” Dean smirks. 

Their eyes catch and hold, fever hot looks pass between them until Cas practically lunges forward. He kisses Dean, hard and demanding as he backs them into the booth. He doesn’t shut them in, though. The door remains wide open. Both of them notice it, but neither one comments. 

“Since we’re here in this booth, we’re going to use it properly, sweetheart. You’re going to confess to me.” 

Dean looks heavenward and moans as Cas kisses down his neck. Dean is salty and musky from sweat. Underneath it, there is a delectable flavor that is all Dean. He tastes of old leather, sunshine, and incense. Cas nips at his skin in appreciation. He is all man, strong and virile. Cas has never wanted anyone with quite this ferocity, this unhinging desire. His hands are shaking with the clashing needs to worship him slowly and rush them to completion. 

Dean’s hands slap against the walls of the booth to keep them away from Cas. He’s already screwed up once. He won’t do anything to ruin this now. Cas’s gorgeous black hair is shining with the colors of the stained glass filtering down into it. 

“Is this one of your dirty fantasies, Dean? Did you sit in church on Sunday mornings, thinking about coercing one of the altar boys into this dark little room with you? Did you think about getting on your knees for something other than prayer? What did you want to do to that innocent boy, Dean?” 

Dean swallows hard. “Not the altar boy. The priest.” 

Dark chuckling erupts from Cas. “Of course. A choir boy with a priest kink. 

Cas pulls back, ceasing all contact between them. Dean almost whimpers at the loss. 

“Should I be worried, Dean? Am I competing for your attentions with a man of God?” 

Dean huffs a laugh. “The priest here is 85. This is a very old fantasy.” 

Cas looks pleased and slips closer. His hands wrap around Dean’s hips, pulling him sharply forward. His knee parts Dean’s thighs, shoving higher into the center of him, forcing him to stagger his stance to make room. He whispers into his ear, “What did you want to do with the priest, Dean?” 

Cas’s hand drifts down to his waistband while he waits for the answer. “I wanted to suck him. I wanted to slip up under his robes and take him apart with my mouth.” 

“Did you know how to do that, Dean? Did you know how to suck a cock?” 

Dean shakes his head while Cas cups his erection outside of his loose gym shorts. “But you do now, though, don’t you?” 

Dean meets his eye, their mouths close. Their breathing has sped up, swept up in the forbidden, the taboo. “Yeah,” Dean breathes humid against Cas’s mouth. “Will you let me?” 

Cas contemplates his request. Who the fuck is he kidding? His brain is screaming at him to accept. Since their first encounter on the train, he has fantasized about having Dean reciprocate. He’s jacked off to the thought for weeks. The contemplation is all a rouse for Dean’s benefit. 

“Can you keep your hands to yourself, Dean?” 

Dean agrees in earnest. “Yes, I promise.” 

Cas nods his acceptance and turns Dean to switch places with him. Dean immediately drops to his knees and grabs his wrist behind his back. He looks up at Cas with an adoring gaze. He’s the epitome of willing submission, and Cas’s heart almost stops. 

“Holy fuck, Dean.” Cas groans as he looks down at the gorgeous sight at his feet. He opens his jeans and shoves them out of their way, letting his hard cock pop free. He gives it a few tugs while he watches Dean zero in on it with a ravenous look. When he licks his lips, Cas feels a responding pulse of pre-come bubble up. 

“Come closer,” Dean asks sweetly. With another step, he can finally reach Cas’s perfect cock. He licks the sticky drop from the slit slowly, letting Cas get a good look at it on his tongue. When he hears the broken sound echo in the small booth, he swallows it down. 

Now that he is close enough to study Cas’s prodigious dick, he can really appreciate its beauty. The girth is impressive. Even if he could use his hands, he isn’t sure that his hand could wrap all the way around it. He’s never seen such a thick cock, and it sends a little shiver down his spine thinking that he had this inside of him. No wonder it had felt like Cas was touching him everywhere. He was. 

He starts on the velvety head, swirling his tongue around and sucking lightly. Cas pulls back a little, and Dean looks up. Fractured colors light up every surface of the man in front of him. Reds, blues, greens, yellows. “Wow,” he whispers, struck dumb by the sight. “You’re breathtaking.” 

Cas is too caught in the moment to respond. He isn’t seeing the way light plays over him. He is mesmerized by Dean. He rubs his thumb across Dean’s bottom lip, which he opens without resistance. Cas pushes his jaw open farther and brings his cock back within reach. Dean opens wider and flattens his tongue to help accommodate him. Cas slips back into the waiting warmth of Dean’s mouth, and both of them groan. Cas can feel it reverberate through him. 

He lets his head fall back as he cards his fingers into Dean’s hair. Dean stiffens minutely, but Cas keeps his touch light. He isn’t going to pull on the hair tangled in his grip. He isn’t going to thrust harshly. Dean might be expecting Cas to fuck his face, but that isn’t what Cas wants right now. He wants to feel every wet, dripping movement in and out of Dean. He wants to savor the experience. 

Dean relaxes when he realizes that he’s not about to choke on the fat cock in his mouth. He hasn’t tried to deep throat in a while, and he’s never tried with a cock this big. After the initial panic, he’s able to get his gag reflex under control and he can take Cas a lot deeper than he thought possible. He has to time his breathing, but Cas’s rhythm is smooth and steady. 

The gorgeous, breathy feedback from Cas tells him that he’s enjoying having him on his knees. Dean uses his tongue to trace along the bumps of his veins, flicks up across the frenulum, increases the suction on almost every pass. 

“God damn, you are going to wreck me with that mouth, Dean.” 

Dean hums in approval and swallows. Cas hisses at the constriction. It’s so tight that it steals the breath from his lungs. He looks down at Dean to see the mess he’s making. Drool is running out of his mouth, tears are being forced out of his eyes, and yet he looks utterly blissful. Cas is trembling already. 

When he looks up under the cover of his lashes, he swallows again. That look should be innocent, but on Dean it’s purely devilish. Cas has been in control of every sexual experience of his life. At this moment, though, Dean takes the reins. He’s on his knees, hands restrained, and still he is reducing Cas to a panting, pleading mess. 

“So fucking good, Dean,” he praises. “Oh god, oh fuck. I’m gonna come, sweetheart.” He bites his lip to stave off the words slipping from his lips unfiltered. They’re replaced with thrumming pleasure. Dean sucks harder, makes the channel of his mouth even tighter with the pressure. Tremors overcome Cas as he shouts his release. After the first few waves pulse out of him, he feels Dean swallow again. 

“Fuck,” he moans, cock still spurting come into Dean’s mouth as he watches intently. “Do it again, Dean. Please?” 

Dean obliges, swallowing when Cas is pushed deep. Cas moans from the depths of his very soul. Quietly, reverently, he whispers, “You’re so goddamned perfect, Dean.” 

Dean blushes at his words, but it makes him feel more powerful than anything else he’s ever experienced. He starts to analyze how Cas can make him feel so special when in reality all they’ve shared is three quick trysts. Three very public trysts. He's starting to develop an exhibitionist kink. He shakes off the thoughts. He has plenty of time to overthink later. Right now, he still has a cock in his mouth and an insistent erection to deal with. He laves it one last time with his tongue, and lets it slip free. 

Cas is propping himself against the walls with his hands, breathing erratically. He lets them slip down as he sinks to the bench seat behind him. After a few cleansing, focusing breaths, Cas pulls Dean up from his knees and onto his lap in a straddling position. He holds Dean’s face between his hands as he kisses him deeply, chasing the taste of himself. When he pulls back, he grins. “Did that live up to your fantasy, Dean?” 

Dean chuckles. “It was so much better. You’re a lot hotter than my priest, for one thing.” 

Cas rubs firm hands up Dean’s thighs. “How do you want me to take care of you, you kinky little altar boy?” 

Dean pulls the front of his shorts down and tucks them under his balls, exposing his rigid dick. He starts stroking it lightly. “Any chance you’ll take that shirt off and let me come on you?” 

Cas hesitates. He’s never let anyone do it, but it is really appealing. Dean sees the struggle, and covers for him, saying, “Never mind. Just a thought.” 

Cas can see the disappointment flash across Dean’s face even as he tries to school his expression. Cas is frustrated with himself. This man just sucked his brains out through his cock. He was trusting enough to let Cas thrust into his mouth. He’s been nothing but generous. Cas can give him this. 

“Hey,” Cas catches his forearm to still it. “I’ve just never let anyone do it. I want you to, though.” 

Dean stays still, waiting for Cas to lead this since it is new for him. Cas leans forward a little, pulling the long-sleeved shirt off by tugging it over his head. He hears the gasp as his torso is revealed. Dean hasn’t seen any of his tattoos except for the geometric pattern on the fingers of his right hand. He’s about to get an up-close view of all fourteen large pieces of artwork. 

Cas’s entire body is covered in tattoos. They aren’t just any tattoos, though. They are spectacular. Both arms are full sleeves. His hips and abdomen are covered with classical Greek statues. There are so many shades of gray in them that they look truly three dimensional. Dean can only stare open-mouthed. He’s speechless. 

Cas is enjoying the look of wonder in Dean’s eyes. He’s practically salivating as his eyes roam over the art covering Cas’s body. He watches Dean’s hands as he tries to prevent them from reaching out to touch what he so obviously craves. Whenever they reach out, he quickly fists them and forces them to his sides. 

“I knew you had some ink hiding under there, but I had no idea you were keeping an entire gallery hidden away.” 

Dean meets his eyes with appreciation. “You’re stunning, Cas. Absolutely, achingly beautiful.” 

Cas can’t take the honest praise. He feels flayed, laid bare. He pulls Dean into a desperate kiss to get them back on track, building the lust in them quickly. 

Cas’s hand joins Dean’s on his cock, teasing touches giving another layer of texture to Dean’s resumed strokes. Dean leans against the back wall of the booth, pace getting faster, more frantic within minutes. His voice is breathy when he asks, “Where, Cas?” 

Cas runs one hand over Dean’s ass and rubs the other over the left side of his abdomen and hipbone. “Right here, sweetheart. Mark me up, Dean.” 

Apparently, that was enough to push him over the edge. “Fuck, Cas,” he huffs as white ropes of come arch onto Cas’s skin. As soon as the first one lands, Cas moans. It is sexy as all hell to feel Dean’s hot come brand him. He watches every drop land on him with an ache. Dean sighs and slumps back into his lap. “That was awesome.” 

Cas chuckles and grabs his shirt to wipe up the mess. Dean stops him before he can. “No, Cas.” 

Dean’s eyes are alight with sparkling devilry. “Rub it in. I want you to wear it home.” 

Cas rolls his eyes, but he is secretly loving this possessive display. It feels good to be desired, but it feels even better to inspire such primal, proprietary behavior. He rubs it in slowly, maintaining eye contact even when he licks his fingers clean. Dean devours the sight. 

“You really are a kinky fucker, Dean.” 

Dean winks. “Says the guy who just got blown in a church confessional.” 

Cas grins up at him and steals a last kiss. “It was a religious experience, sweetheart. You might be a missionary after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the church, they find the only place without cameras: the confessional. Sexual acts happen within and there is a lot of religious imagery. Dean sees all of Cas's tattoos revealed. If you think that you would be fine reading it, be my guest. If not, don't. It won't affect the plot line or character development. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this longer chapter. Let me know what you think of the new developments. I love hearing from you!
> 
> [Find me on Tumblr here](https://angelaland.tumblr.com)  
>  [Find me on Tumblr here](https://angelaland.tumblr.com)


	4. Swimming Upstream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is in danger, and Cas makes it his mission to protect him...without his knowledge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallelujah! Writer's block is gone!!!!
> 
> I have struggled this month with not having enough time to write, and then when I did have time, nothing worked. I can't tell you what a horrid feeling it is to sit in front of your own work and have...nothing. Well, for those of you that write as well as read, I'm sure you know exactly what I mean. We all go through it, and it sucks just as bad every time.
> 
> Ugh. Thank you for bearing with me. 
> 
> I hope you can still remember the previous chapters that got us here...

He is swimming through a school of bodies; the friction of the dancers rubbing rough, like a match against sandpaper. Gritty, bumpy, raspy. Too hard of a drag and it will ignite. Even without any skin accessible, his nerves are rubbed raw. The chaotic flickers of lights make it damn near impossible to find his target. The environment has him clenching his jaw; these young people writhing against each other, desperate to be...enough. The stink of recklessness wrinkles his nose. 

Cas wears his punk look like armor. In this heaving mass, far away from his neighborhood, he can’t rely on his reputation to keep them out of his way. Instead, his eyeliner is his war paint. The chain around his neck shines and shimmers in the fluctuating colors, calling attention to the predator in their midst. The snarl of his lips makes him unapproachable, and when a particularly out of control man flails into him; he shoves hard with an unyielding snap of his arms. As the man goes down, a ripple effect of people finally gives Cas space, creating a wake around him. 

Even with the space, he can’t find Dean, though he knows he’s here. He continues the hunt, wishing his charge would stop frequenting places where protecting him is impossible. Looking around the club, Cas can think of at least twenty ways that Dean could be in true danger. Fuck. 

After catching Michael sneaking around the church again this week, Cas began tailing Dean in earnest. Relying on the gps tracker in his phone to get him into his general vicinity and then his rather impressive skills to get closer to him. Cas is aware of how it looks. He feels more than a little unsettled by all the stealth and subterfuge, if he’s honest. He feels like a stalker except he isn’t doing it to take advantage of Dean. He scoffs at himself. What’s that saying about the road to hell? Yeah, his intentions are noble, but he is still invading Dean’s privacy. More than once, he has wanted to come clean and tell his friend what is going on. But then Dean will say or do something particularly charming, and Cas’s resolve to keep him out of it is renewed. 

The world is evil. Well, humans are evil and they run the world. Ergo. Cas is jaded by his experiences, and that’s fine. It’s honestly all he’s ever known. He’s been on the streets since before his fifteenth birthday. Until that time, he was passed from foster home to foster home. From birth, he has been a burden on the system. Other than Claire, he can’t think of a single person that loves him. Even his own junkie mom didn’t care enough about him to stay clean and alive. He isn’t crying about it. It’s just the way it is. 

But Dean? Dean has never known evil, not really. It’s never chased him through dark alleys or come knocking on his door. In comparison to anyone else Cas knows, Dean is fresh-faced and innocent. That virtue is what drew Cas to him in the first place. The sincerity in his eyes is something out of a storybook. He is ashamed to cop to it, but originally, he wanted to destroy that purity. He wanted to drag Dean into the muck with him and dirty him up. It wasn’t until they met the second time that Cas started to see past their differences. Dean’s purity of heart calls to him, makes him ache. He will be damned if Michael Boyar takes it from him. 

While on his latest excursion tracking Dean, he saw his posh Back Bay apartment. Wasn’t that a kick in the teeth! He had figured that Dean was financially secure. No one takes on a passion project like his youth training program if they struggle to pay bills. But the brownstone that Dean walked into, just a few blocks away from Boston University, screams old money. Dean is not just secure, he is wealthy. Usually, that would be Cas’s cue to fuck off out of the situation. He figures that the rich have enough advantages; they don’t need his assistance, too. 

Not one to discriminate, that is also the reaction he has to those who are too pretty or too smart. The naturally gifted don’t get any acknowledgement from him. Cas isn’t completely sure why he makes exceptions for Dean because he is all three of those things. He just does. Maybe it's because he cares so much for the disenfranchised kids in his neighborhood. Maybe it’s the fearless way he stood up to Cas when they met. Maybe it’s that he gave him the most mind-bending blow job of his life. Whatever it is, Dean evidently gets a pass. 

Cas has been searching through the crowd for too long. A jolt of panic shoots through him like lightning. What if he can’t find him because Michael has already come and gone? Gone with him? Goddamn it. He picks up the pace, circling the floor in ever-tightening circles so he doesn’t miss a face. Once he reaches the center of the dance floor, he will be forced to switch tactics. He will go searching in the dark corners, the closed doors, the alleyway. His chest tightens on that thought. If that fucking lunatic has already gotten his hands on Dean, he-. He can’t finish the thought without bile jumping into his throat. 

There. He sees the top of Dean’s head. He would recognize that almost regulation haircut anywhere. He’s run his fingers through it enough times to remember the contrast of the brush-like short sides and the silky longer top. As he approaches, slowly now in Case Michael is with him, his panic ebbs away to be replaced by confusion. The scene in front of him takes a few moments to register. 

An older, rather skeevy man is grinding along Dean’s perfect ass, a flabby arm wrapped around his waist. Dean appears to be completely lost in the music, which, quite honestly, is dreadful. But Cas has always hated the repetitive churn of techno music, so maybe it’s just him. The man at his back kisses down the side of Dean’s neck with sloppy kisses, and Cas feels nauseated. How could this gorgeous man let this mousy creature practically hump him in public? Why would Dean let someone else-. He halts that thought immediately. Dean isn’t his. Dean is free to make any mistakes he wants. 

When Cas sees hands moving down Dean’s sides, though, his jaw clenches. Dean may not be his, but they are something to each other. He wouldn’t have guessed that Dean was the type to be so loose and free with his affections, despite the circumstances of how they met. In fact, when they last spoke, Dean had commented on his drought of physical activity prior to their string of trysts. It stood out because Cas couldn’t believe that Dean had ever been lacking in willing partners and said so. Dean’s blushing reply was that he rarely went out and didn’t do random hook-ups, present company obviously excluded. Cas hadn’t been able to refrain from teasing him about being a choir boy after all. 

Cas continues his quiet approach while the parasite latched on to Dean gets bolder. When Dean doesn’t bat his hand away from his crotch, red flags go off in his brain. Something isn’t right here. There’s no way Dean would allow that. Together they might be leaning heavily on an exhibitionist kink that Dean probably didn’t even know he had, but Cas would never consider trying to get him off on a dance floor surrounded by strangers. His concerns are vindicated when Dean tries to turn around. His normal grace is gone. He staggers to the side and sways like a puppet with a drunk puppeteer. Shit. 

Cas is in front of him in an instant. He steadies Dean by grasping his elbows. It takes him several long blinks before recognition registers. 

“Cas?” 

“Hello, Dean.” 

Dean tries to smile, but it looks like he’s just come from the dentist. His plump lips aren’t cooperating with his brain. Cas takes in as much about him as possible. His movements are uncoordinated, his knees are jelly, but he doesn’t smell alcohol on his breath. 

Right about that time, the man groping Dean gives Cas a belligerent look and tries to pull Dean in closer. He doesn’t have the patience right now to be kind. He grabs the man’s wrist in a punishing grip and yanks him to the side. With a wicked and maniacal grin, he growls, “Get lost.” 

The guy almost pisses himself, but with one glance at Dean, he decides he’s worth the fight. He puts steel in his spine and steps up. Cas can’t blame him, really. He would do a lot of stupid shit to be with Dean. Well, more stupid shit than he’s already done. Cas shakes his head in warning. “Don’t do it, man. This will not go well for you.” 

Without the other body to lean on, Dean can’t help but pitch forward. He wraps a leaden arm around Cas’s neck and tucks his head in. Cas puts an arm around him to keep him vertical. Dean takes it as invitation and slobbers wet kisses down his neck, his other hand running up and down Cas’s side. He grits his teeth against the urge to push him away. 

“I was with him first,” comes the smarmy reply. Cas rolls his eyes. 

“He’s not a toy in the sandbox, asshole.” 

The man tries to take Dean’s hand, and Cas is done playing games. He bats it away and then lifts the edge of his shirt to give the man a view of his gun. His eyes go wide and he takes a step back. 

“Like I said, fuck off.” 

This time, he doesn’t argue. Cas watches him wind his way through the crowd before he turns to Dean. He untangles himself and steps out of the slanted embrace. 

“What are you on, sweetheart?” Cas asks gently. 

Dean leans forward to hear him better and topples into him. Cas braces him. “Wha?” 

“Drugs. What did you take, Dean?” 

Dean’s face scrunches, and he wobbles as he tries to shake his head. “Nof’ing. Don’t do drugs.” 

Cas grabs his jaw and waits for Dean to meet his eye. “Did you drink something here?” 

He tries to nod, but Cas doesn’t release his grip. “Bourbon.” 

Cas catches his completely blown pupils in the strobe lights. “Fuck.” 

He wants to chastise Dean for being so incredibly naïve, but he knows it won’t do any good. He’s almost positive that Dean’s been roofied, so he probably won’t remember any part of this conversation. Better to save his breath. He pulls Dean in close and lets him rub and grind on him while he looks around. Despite the discomfort it causes him, it’s the only way to keep Dean upright. Now that he’s solved the puzzle, his attention goes to the periphery of the crowd. If someone drugged Dean, Cas would bet it was Michael. Movement above him catches his eye and he looks into the balcony. Well, well, well. There’s the prick, now. 

Michael blends in well, but Cas can still make out the sour look aimed back at him. Bastard. Cas flips him off, and he disappears into the crowd. His worst paranoia confirmed, Cas’s heart races and his body shakes. If he hadn’t been here tonight, Dean would have been taken. His brain fills with sickening images of what Michael could have had planned for Dean. Whether he planned to take him to rape or kill, Cas knows that he put a stop to a horrifying experience for Dean, possibly his last. 

He shuts his eyes as bile burns his throat and turns his head into Dean’s. He breathes in that scent that is becoming so familiar and lets it center him. Cas makes a silent vow that he will thwart that asshole’s every attempt to get to Dean. He won’t let the man near enough to have any part of Dean, including his fear. He will keep Dean safe, and he will never know he was in danger. 

When he leans back to see Dean’s face, he realizes that the groping stopped because Dean passed out. Cas lifts him up and shakes him a little. When that doesn’t work, he taps his face a few times until his eyes open. 

“Dean, who are you here with?” 

“Benny.” 

Cas digs through his memories of their conversations. “Your roommate?” 

Dean nods arrhythmically. 

“Where is he now?” Dean shrugs and his eyes slip lower. 

“No, no, no. Dean. Look at me!” Cas shakes him again with the firm command. “I need to get you to Benny. Point him out to me.” 

Dean’s eyes flicker over to the bar area, but his arm doesn’t quite point effectively. There are dozens of men loitering around the bar. “Tell me what he looks like, sweetheart.” 

“Beard, tall.” 

Cas scans the bar again and huffs exasperation. “Thanks. You’ve literally described everyone in this hipster hellhole.” 

He starts walking towards the tallest, burliest man with Dean sagging at his side. While most of his body is trying to check out, Dean’s hands are everywhere, sliding up under his shirt and down the back of his jeans. Cas’s skin is crawling, nausea making his stomach roll and putting the tingle of sickness at the back of his throat. Pinpricks of cold sweat are dotting his face and neck. His vision is starting to tunnel as the unwanted touch continues. Fuck! He will not have a goddamn panic attack right now. He could stop it in its tracks if he just got Dean’s hands away from him. He won’t push him away, though. No matter what it personally costs him, he will see Dean safely on his way home. 

As they approach, the large man notices them and is on instant alert. Cas was right. This is Dean’s roommate. He’s not into the lumberjack type, but Benny is definitely a handsome man. Even in the dark, Cas can see that his eyes are crystal blue and piercing. A frown mars his face and he steps towards them. 

“Hey, hey. What’s goin’ on here?” 

“Benny?” 

“Yeah, and you are?” The tone is hostile, but Cas isn’t going to take offense. 

“A friend. Look, you need to get him out of here. I’m pretty sure he’s been roofied.” 

Benny’s eyes go wide and he pushes Dean’s head back to get a look for himself. Dean’s eyes are glassy and unfocused. He is succumbing to the drug quickly; every second that ticks by pulls him under farther. Cas has the ridiculous notion to bundle him up and take him home himself. ‘That wouldn’t be a difficult discussion tomorrow,’ he mentally scoffs. ‘Someone roofied you, so I brought you home. I know we don’t really know each other, but I promise I didn’t do anything pervy.’ 

“God damnit, Dean!” 

Cas quickly comes to his defense. “Hey! He didn’t do anything wrong. Some asshole did this to him, and you can bet his intentions were not just to get him high.” 

Benny chuckles darkly and pushes sweaty hair off of Dean’s face. “I know, brother. It’s just that this one has always been a magnet for trouble.” 

Cas looks at Dean again, giving him a fond smile. ‘Yeah, I’ve noticed that, too,’ he thinks. 

“So, do I need to take him to the ER, ya’ think?” 

Cas glares. “He’s been given an unknown quantity of an unknown drug. I’d say the hospital is a safe bet.” 

Benny shakes off his shock. “Of course. Yeah. Help me get him to the car?” 

Cas nods his curt assent and after he disentangles Dean's arms from his body, they each sling one over their shoulders. Dean’s sluggish feet can’t keep up with them, so his toes just drag along the floor and then the ground of the parking lot. Benny dumps all of his weight back on Cas while he gets the car open. Dean comes to just enough to renew his licking and sucking attack on Cas’s neck. Thankfully, his hands hang limply at his side. 

“Sweetheart, Benny’s gonna take you to get fixed up now.” 

Dean grins weakly into his skin. “Thanks, Cas.” 

Cas kisses his forehead tenderly and looks up to see Benny watching them, curiosity sparking in suddenly intelligent eyes. 

When they are on their way, Cas finally allows himself a moment to freak out. He leans against the tattered brick wall, sucking in massive deep breaths, trying to cleanse himself of the cloying stink and feel of the crowd. Letting himself slide down the wall and plop onto the ground, he curls his head and knees together, making himself as small as possible. He has dealt with this his whole life, and he is sick to death of the weakness. What kind of candy-ass freak can’t let other people touch them? 

 

Normally, he wouldn’t indulge; not in public anyway, but he needs to get steady. He pulls a pinner out of a compartment in his wallet and lights it. Doctors and state-mandated therapists have told him that it is a symptom of not having enough physical contact as an infant. Well, yeah. He started out an orphan and he had no extended family. He was born alone. No one cuddles and coos over the unwanted. He became a number, a file, passed from case worker to case worker until he liberated himself. He’s not the only one coming up through the system, but he seems to be the only one who can’t handle touch. 

His heart settles after a few minutes, and he stubs out the cherry in the gravel. He heads back in to search for Michael, but he is long gone. 

 

 

***** 

 

Dean staggers out into the kitchen the next morning, every movement and sound torturous. He hasn’t been this hungover since the SigEp end of year bash his Sophomore year. 

“How are you feeling, sunshine?” 

Dean cringes away and keeps his eyes hooded. “Shhh. Quietly.” 

Benny doesn’t laugh, which makes Dean peek open an eye. His roommate is somber, concerned. Weird. He pushes on. Opening the refrigerator, he pulls out orange juice. There’s just a little bit left in the bottom, so he doesn’t bother with a glass. After a pleasing gulp or three, he asks, “How much did I drink last night, man? All I know is that if I feel this bad, I am terrified to look in my wallet. I’ll bet my tab was stupid high.” 

Again, nothing. He sets the empty container down roughly. “Okay, what the hell is your problem this morning, Benny?” 

He taps a finger against the table and asks simply, “Do you remember how you got home last night?” 

Dean draws a blank. In fact, he scans back through his evening and finds that everything after Benny dragged him to a goofy dance club is a blank. Nothing. He swallows harshly, pulse kicking up and asks with trepidation, “What happened?” 

Benny takes a long dramatic sip of his coffee and finally meets his eye. “Well, you were drugged last night, brother.” 

Adrenaline fixes the hangover, at least momentarily. “What?!” 

Benny is nodding, letting it sink in. Dean is gaping at him. “No. You’re fucking with me, right?” 

“I wish I was. Took you to the hospital and everything.” He scrubs his hand over his face wearily and gestures to his hands. “You’ve got some pretty new jewelry to prove it.” 

Dean lifts his hands and immediately sees the Mass General ID bracelet on his left wrist. He blinks at it a few times and then looks up. “What the fuck? How? Who?” 

Benny takes pity on his babbling and offers, “Okay, chief. Come sit down and I’ll explain it all.” 

When Dean flops indelicately into the chair, Benny starts, “Someone put GHB in your drink last night, and if it wasn’t for your friend who got you off the dance floor and tracked me down, who knows what could have happened. He helped me get you into my car and I took you to the ER.” 

Stunned silence reaches back at him. “Holy shit,” Dean finally whispers. 

He looks up with terrified, wide eyes. “I could have been raped last night.” His hand rubs across his jaw. “Worse. I could have been taken, killed.” 

Benny’s solemnity makes sense now. He obviously came to these same conclusions hours ago. Dean is processing everything that happened, trying to remember anything of the missing hours, when something catches his attention. “Wait. You said friend. Who was it?” 

Benny smiles coyly. “I don’t know, but you sure seemed to like him. I’ve never seen you so...affectionate in public.” 

Dean rolls his eyes. “I was drugged, Benny.” 

He chuckles finally. “I’m pretty sure you gave him a hickey.” 

“Oh, god.” Dean drops his head in his hands. 

“Your hands were everywhere. He had to pry you off like an octopus so that I could help carry you out.” 

“Okay, enough. I can’t be any more embarrassed. You’ve made your point.” 

Benny stops teasing and gets serious again. “Honestly, Dean. I hope you really do take this close call to heart and exercise a little more caution. I worry.” 

Dean looks down at his hands. After a thoughtful minute, he clears his throat. “Yeah, I will, uh...I’ll be much more careful.” 

 

 

***** 

 

Cas is going to explode if he has to deal with yet another roadblock. This is the third police precinct office he’s been to. Jurisdiction is apparently a bigger issue than actually catching criminals that do crimes all over the city, so they’ve passed him around like a dirty bong. The grunt behind the counter at this precinct took an instant dislike to him, and wouldn’t let him speak to a detective. Finally, when he spoke the magic words, the suspect’s name, he was ushered in to see Detective Mills immediately. He’s not going to lie. He really likes this detective. She’s smart, witty, and she isn’t discounting him because of the way he looks. However, that still isn’t getting them anywhere. 

“I’m telling you that I know who his next victim is going to be, and I’m just trying to keep him safe.” 

“Did Boyar tell you who his target was?” 

“No, we haven’t spoken, but I’ve watched him looking at Dean. If you saw the looks, you would know.” 

Mills drops her pen. “Mr. Novak, are you really here because you saw Boyar looking at a guy?” 

“Not just that. He lurks around his work, and he followed him to a club and drugged him.” 

Her eyes go wide. “You saw him drug someone?” 

Cas grits his teeth. “If I say that I saw it happen, then you can do something?” 

She narrows her gaze. “Yes, that could be actionable.” 

“Then I saw him do it.” 

She closes her eyes and sighs. “Do we need to have a conversation about how many cases become mistrials because of perjured testimony?” 

Cas growls in frustration. “I know it was him. I saw him there when Dean was drugged. He looked like he wanted to kill me.” 

“Are you involved with this Dean, Castiel?” 

“We’re not in a relationship.” 

“Semantics. Are you involved with him?” 

Cas sighs. “Yes, we’ve had sex.” 

“You realize how this looks?” 

“Like I want to protect my friend?” 

Mills smirks. “It looks like you’re a jealous boyfriend who’s getting a little possessive.” 

Cas runs his hands through his hair, tugging on it to alleviate some of the irritation. “I assure you, that’s not the case.” 

Mills seems to be taking his measure. She continues calmly, “What is it you want me to do, Castiel?” 

“I want you to take the leads I’m giving you and look into them. I want you to catch this psychopath before he kills again. I want you to keep Dean safe from this monster.” 

“I need a lot more than what you’ve given me to start an investigation.” 

Cas will look back and regret the next words out of his mouth, but he just can’t help himself. “Fuck that! I can’t believe the police are such a bunch of pussies! You know he’s out planning to kill again. You know it’s just a matter of time, and I’m literally handing you the leads to put him away again. I’m giving him to you, and you aren’t going to even look into it? Is this why he’s back on the streets again? Did you guys fuck up his first case and let him walk?” 

Apparently, Cas touched a nerve and they were kind enough to just throw him out. By the time the desk sergeant manhandled him out the door, Mills was screaming about the myriad crimes she’d like to tack onto his sheet. So much for going the legal route. Now, it is up to him to do what is necessary. 

 

 

***** 

 

There’s careful, and then there’s paranoid. Dean isn’t sure what side of the line he’s on currently, but it feels a little ‘Apocalypse Now’ for his tastes. For days, he’s felt eyes on him: at work, on the subway, at the church; everywhere. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand on end signifying that danger is near, but nothing is there. He sees things in his peripheral vision that make him jump and curse when it’s yet again nothing. Cue the helicopters. 

In addition to the crippling paranoia and hallucinations, he’s also fretting over the supposed friend who helped him at the night club. It’s like a bruise that he can’t stop touching. Was it actually a friend or just a good Samaritan? Benny knows almost all of his friends, so that weeds out a huge number of potentials. The only ones left are work acquaintances, of which only one is gay, and Cas. His heart raced initially when he pictured Cas as his rescuer, but it couldn’t have been him. Benny said that his hands were all over this guy, and there’s no way Cas would have let that happen. 

By the time he gets to the door of his building, he’s anxious and twitchy. He hikes to the third floor quickly, needing to be securely behind his apartment doors. When he slides the deadbolt in place, he breathes out relief and shudders. 

“Someone walking on your grave, brother?” Benny teases. 

Dean purses his lips and flips him off. Opening the refrigerator door harshly, he grabs a beer, has it opened and half of it down his throat on the same breath. 

“I can’t shake this feeling, Benny. It’s making me...itch.” 

“Sure that ain’t crabs, Dean?” 

“You’re fucking hilarious today.” 

“I do endeavor to try.” Benny tips his beer up and watches his friend pace. On the tenth trek across the living room, Benny cuts him some slack. “Okay, enough teasing. Let’s think this through. What’s going on when you feel someone watching you?” 

He throws up his hands and shakes his head emphatically. “That’s just it, Benny. It’s everywhere.” 

“And you don’t think this is just reactionary because of what happened?” 

“No. I’m sure that I’m noticing a lot more, being more observant because of it, but this is...” 

“Real?” 

Dean flops into an armchair. “Yeah. Someone is definitely watching me.” 

“Have you talked to your dad?” 

Dean picks at a hole in his jeans. “No, because he’ll tell my mom, and you know how she worries.” 

“He’s a criminal lawyer, Dean. He would know what to do to keep you protected and on the right side of the law.” 

Dean snorts. “I grew up with the law, Benny. I already know anything he could tell me in a hypothetical case. Nothing can be done until after a crime is committed. They don’t have the resources to put manpower on potential stalkers, just confirmed ones.” 

“You really don’t think the boys at the precinct would do your dad a favor and keep an extra close eye on you for a while?” 

“On what grounds?” 

Benny leans forward and squints. “We have a positive drug test that confirms you were drugged with GHB. We know where you were drugged. You know that place had cameras. Since then, you’ve been feeling eyes on you. I think that’s more than enough grounds to have a couple guys look into it and maybe put our street on their watchlist.” 

Dean clenches his jaw, but sighs and pulls out his phone to make the call. He points at Benny and declares, “You’re fielding all of my mom’s calls for the next week.” 

 

 

***** 

 

 

Dean peeks out the window again. On his way home tonight, his imagination ran away with him. He didn’t just feel eyes watching him. He heard footsteps; he felt breath on his neck. On his third beer already, Dean is still shaking from the walk turned jog turned sprint into his building. He has started trying to memorize faces he sees on the train and license plates of cars that drive too slow past him. Having the police looking into the issue should have calmed him. Instead, he feels raw, undone. 

Benny is fed up, and Dean can’t blame him. They’ve been good friends for years, the only person that Dean considers family other than his parents...and Sam. But, family or not, Dean is making him crazy in his own home, so Benny is going out on a Tuesday night. Dean can hear him getting ready in his bathroom. In a few minutes, Dean is going to be alone. ‘Lock it down, Winchester!’ he scolds himself. ‘You have got to pull yourself out of this pit of crazy.’ 

“Okay, brother. I’ll be at the pub, so I’m not far away if you need me.” Benny waits for Dean to nod his understanding before he winks and leaves. 

Dean flips on the TV and puts on the hockey game. It started a few minutes ago, so he has plenty of game left to occupy his time. At just eleven minutes into the first period, the Bruins are already up 2 – 0. Dean smiles. This should be a great distraction. 

When the period ends, Dean goes into the kitchen for another beer. He hasn’t thought about his stalker throughout the game, so he shouldn’t give in to the temptation to look out the kitchen windows. It will just start the cycle all over again. He should just go back into the living room and watch the commentary until the game begins again. He takes a few steps away and stops. His feet feel like lead. He just can’t make himself continue. He’s calling his traitorous legs all sorts of vicious names, but they will not move forward. Not without checking the windows again. He rolls his eyes and gives in. Whatever. He’s weak. If he looks, then he can see nothing is there and he can go back to watching the game in peace. 

Except. 

Dean jumps back from the blinds and drops his beer, “Holy shit!” 

In an instant, adrenaline spikes and he is panting for air, hands trembling. The glass and cold liquid aren’t even registering with him. Someone is out there looking up towards his apartment. He turns out the light behind him, and creeps back to the blinds. His phone is already in his hand. When he looks this time, he takes in details. Pitch black hair, black motorcycle jacket...No. 

It can’t be. 

Dean shakes his head in denial. When he looks a third time, the street light catches his face. Dean almost chokes on the painful truth. It’s Cas. 

He dials the phone numbly, trying to reconcile what he’s seeing with what he thought he knew. 

“Dean, I haven’t been gone 30 minutes -” 

“Benny. He’s here.” 

“Wait. What? Are you sure?” 

“Positive. Fuck!” 

“Do you recognize him?” 

“Yes.” Dean rests the phone against his temple, mentally steeling himself for saying the words out loud. “Do you remember me telling you about Cas?” 

“That hot little work of art you’ve been fucking around with down in Southie?” 

Dean sighs. “Yeah. He’s here.” 

“Okay, so maybe he missed you and wanted to surprise you?” 

“Well, it’s certainly a surprise because I never told him where I live.” 

Silence on the line, then, “I’ll rip his fucking lungs out through his back!” 

Dean is weary. He is heartbroken. He is so goddamn naïve, and he just wants to crawl into bed and sleep this off. “No need to go all Viking on him. I’m calling Detective Walker.” 

“Good. Call them now. I’m on my way home.” 

Dean takes a shuddering breath and then dials. 

“911, what is your emergency?” 

“Detective Walker told me to contact him if my stalker showed up. He’s in front of my apartment right now.” 

 

***** 

 

Cas can’t believe that Michael got away from him again. He was following Dean home like he’s been doing for days, only to see the psychotic fuck trail him out of the same train car. Cas always keeps several cars back to avoid detection, but the brazen asshole was walking just a few feet behind Dean. In a panic, Cas tried to push his way closer, but the rush-hour crowd wasn’t having it. He wasn’t able to shorten the gap until after they had exited the station. When he turned the first corner, he saw that Dean was walking much faster, and by the end of the block, he was practically sprinting home. That means that Dean was paying attention to his instincts and could feel the predator approaching. Good. 

Michael heard footsteps pounding behind him, ducked into an alleyway, and the chase was on. Cas had gotten close to catching him a few times, but Michael is nothing if not wily. When Cas realized that he wasn’t going to pick up his trail again, he decided to go back to Dean’s apartment and wait there. If Michael didn’t give up for the night, he’d be returning to watch his prey. Cas was certain of it. He just had to be patient. 

He sees vague shadows moving around in the apartment, but the blinds are thick wood, so silhouettes are impossible to see. A light goes out. He prays to a god he doesn’t really believe in that Dean is not going out again tonight. The building’s front door opens, which catches his eye. Dean appears in the doorway and he looks right at where Cas is standing, across the street and in the shadows. There’s no way he can be seen from here. Dean can’t see him, unless... 

A gun is cocked a few feet behind him. Cas freezes, all attention now on the imminent threat. 

“Boston PD. Get on the ground and lace your fingers behind your head!” 

“Fuck.” Cas sighs and complies with their order. 

 

***** 

 

Once the cuffs are on him, Dean’s fury is unleashed. He storms over to the police cruiser. One of the officers puts himself in front of Dean, but lets him talk. “I can’t fucking believe this, Cas! Why?” 

When he opens his mouth to reply, the officer behind him slams his head down onto the hood of the car. Seeing stars, he tries to explain. “It wasn’t me, Dean. I promise. I wouldn’t hurt you.” 

“How do you know where I live?” 

Cas closes his eyes, deflated. There is no way he can tell him about the tracker right now. There is no way to explain what he has been doing to protect him. 

“How, Cas? Have you been following me all this time? Did you drug me?” With each question, he pushes forward, until the officer presses back against him. Cas looks up sorrowfully. Benny is behind him now, trying to pull while the officer pushes. 

When they pull Cas upright, leading him to the back of the cruiser to take him away, recognition flares in Benny’s eyes. 

“Wait, Dean. That’s Cas?” 

“Yes,” he spits, still fired up with righteous indignation. 

“Dean, that’s the guy that saved you at the club. That’s the guy that brought you to me. There’s no way he’s the one that’s been trying to hurt you.” 

Confusion ripples across his face as he watches the door slam shut on Cas. He can’t look away. Even as the blue and red lights flare, he watches Cas until the car disappears around the corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will most likely be the only smut-free chapter of this story. Is that a spoiler? I kind of feel like that might be spoilery, but it's not like you had any illusions of this not ending up destiel, right?
> 
> I would love to hear from you. Comments are the only way for us to chat, so please, leave some feedback.
> 
> [Find me on Tumblr here](https://angelaland.tumblr.com)


	5. Ferocious Intent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angry Sex!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one week?! 
> 
> Writer's block is officially gone. Also gone is the sweet interlude I had planned when the boys reunited. They were both very angry and frustrated with each other, so this happened instead.
> 
> It's almost entirely filthy smut. Enjoy!

Dean has been raising hell at the police station for the past forty-five minutes. Detective Walker isn’t on site, and none of the others want to deal with Walker’s case. They finally give him an ultimatum. If he calms down, they will bring him into the bullpen to wait for Walker. 

He just wants them to release Cas before they have a chance to book him. This arrest shouldn’t go on his record, so time is of the essence. Once they have processed him, it will take a lot more work to remove it. 

“C’mon, man,” Dean pleads. “I’m trying to drop the charges and save you guys a lot of paperwork. Just let the guy go.” 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester, but he’s already in holding.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” Dean snaps. “He’s in holding because it’s taking so goddamned long to get the charges dropped.” 

The uniformed officer scowls at him, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly, but Dean won’t be cowed. He hates doing this. He legitimately despises using his family’s influence, but if there was ever a time, it’s now. 

Dean sighs dramatically and pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Alright. Fine. I’ll call his lawyer then. You know John Winchester, right?” 

The officer’s eyes go wide. Everyone in this precinct, hell, in this city, knows that name. Dean can see the moment that he puts two and two together. Dean doesn’t let his smirk show. 

“Let’s see. Nine o’clock on a Friday evening? I’ll bet he just got out to our home on Nantucket. There won’t be another ferry tonight, so he’ll probably have to charter a flight to get back.” 

Dean isn’t looking at the man seated across from him, but he can feel the rising tension. 

“Maybe he’ll just call his best friend in and let him handle it. I’m sure the State District Attorney owes my dad a few favors. I’ll just call him instead.” 

Dean feels slimy for all of this name-dropping. He’s going to need at least two showers to get rid of the stink. “Of course, I just call him Uncle Scott-” 

“Alright! Let me call Walker and see if we can get him out of here without booking.” 

“Oh, thanks, man,” Dean’s smile is saccharin and plastered on. They both know it’s nothing but plastic. Dean occupies his waiting time looking around the bullpen, noting that almost every desk is empty. It’s the weekend in the city. Everyone’s on patrol. 

Instead of coming back to talk to him, the officer apparently went right to holding after speaking to Walker, because the next time Dean sees him, he’s leading Cas through the door. Dean grits his teeth. He’s still in cuffs. 

Dean stands and waits. It doesn’t escape his notice that Cas stares just to the left above his head. Okay, he gets it. He’d be pissed, too. 

“Okay, Winchester. The charges are dropped.” 

“Did you book him?” 

“Just fingerprints and mugshots.” 

“I want it all expunged.” 

“That’s not really your call to-” 

“Do I really need to go through the names in my rolodex again?”

He sees Cas wince when the officer’s grip tightens. “Now, I’m not trying to be nasty, but I really need all records of the arrest deleted.” 

They stare for an awkwardly long time, and the officer finally relents. “I’ll take care of it.” 

“Thank you.” 

As soon as the cuffs are off, Cas breaks for the exit. Dean gives chase immediately. “Cas, wait.” 

He doesn’t so much as hesitate in his stride. “Not in the mood, Dean.” 

As much as he wants to, Dean doesn’t grab his arm to stop him. Instead, he jogs ahead and then stops in the doorway, directly in his path. Cas sways back and stops, still not looking him in the eye. “Cas, I’m really sorry about having you arrested, but as you heard, it won’t be on your record.” 

“Do I look like I give a damn about my arrest record, Bambi?” Cas snarls and finally meets his eye. Rage, wrath, and vengeance bore into him, and Dean almost takes a step back. 

“Cas, I am truly sorry for the misunderstanding.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly the forgiving type.” Cas tries to push his way past Dean, but he blocks the doorway by bracing his arms on the sides. 

“But...” 

Cas tilts his head in that fucking adorable way he does when he’s confused, and Dean fights off a smile. “You still have some explaining to do.” 

“Get out of my way, Dean.” 

He shakes his head. “Let me take you home.” 

Cas takes a step forward then, aggression rolling off of him in palpable waves. “It would be in your best interests to let me work off some of this anger before confronting me. I’m barely keeping it together and despite what my brain is telling me right now, I really don’t want to hurt you.” 

Cas is shocked to see Dean’s eyes go heavy with desire. “Yeah? What if I help you work off that anger, Cas?” 

“Don’t fuck with me right now. This is not a game.” 

Dean licks his lips and replies, “I know it’s not a game, Cas. I know you’re angry. I can practically feel how furious you are, and I really want you to take it out on me.” 

Cas clenches his jaw and his fists. The idea of fucking Dean out of anger shouldn’t excite him, but... holy shit. Images fill his vision of him forcing Dean into submission, bending him over and pounding into him until neither one of them can stand. His cock fills so fast that he goes dizzy with it. 

Dean can read his obvious lust and he gives him a wicked smile. He steps away from the door and nods his head to the left. “Follow me.” 

Another surprise is that Dean apparently knows this police station really well. He leads Cas quickly down the hallway and around the corner to the Solicitor’s Room. When he closes the door behind them and throws the lock, Cas is on him. He slams Dean into the wall hard enough for the frosted glass in the door to rattle, holding him there by a forearm braced across his chest. A grunt is pushed out past his lips, and Dean makes a move to fight his hold. Cas leans in and grips his jaw tightly in the other hand. 

“It was really stupid to put yourself in my hands right now, sweetheart.” Cas gives him a brutal kiss, teeth nipping and biting, tongue plundering. “But I’m really glad you did.” 

Dean whimpers at the onslaught, but it isn’t out of fear. Cas hits every single one of his hidden desires; the things that he’s not supposed to want and can’t tell anyone about. He’s Dean’s personal wet dream come to life: wild, aggressive, dominant, strong. Fuck. Dean might actually cream his jeans. He’d be fine with that. He’ll take whatever Cas dishes out right now. 

“Get rid of those,” Cas commands as he steps back, gesturing at his pants. Dean fumbles with the fly and shoves them down without hesitation. Cas opens the fly of his pants and pulls out his straining cock. With a languorous stroke to his own dick, Cas steps back in and squeezes Dean in a firm grip. He sucks in a harsh breath, and Cas whispers in his ear, “You don’t get to come, so get that out of your mind right now.” 

Dean nods his agreement as Cas pulls a condom from his wallet and puts it on with quick, efficient movements. He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at Dean. “Get it wet.” 

Despite the undeniable anger snapping across his skin, Dean slides to his knees and suckles the head of Cas’s cock. Cas pulls it away and grips him by the hair to raise his eyes. “I said get it wet, not play with it,” he snarls. Dean opens his mouth wide, sticking his tongue out for Cas to slide against. He pushes in deep, almost to the point of choking. Dean wants to smirk, but keeps it off his face. Even shaking with fury, Cas won’t intentionally hurt him. 

“I’d get it dripping, choir boy. It’s the only lube you’re getting.” 

Dean heeds the warning, letting his mouth fill with saliva and getting the latex as slippery as possible. He holds his breath and lets the fat cock dig deeper, popping into his throat to get the really sticky spit coating it. He looks up at Cas, knowing the picture of debauchery he presents on his knees with his cock in his throat. Cas’s head is tipped back in pleasure, but he looks down when he feels eyes on him. Cas’s eyes are blue fire. His breathing is ragged, and Dean gets lost watching the reactions he’s causing. Cas looks like an avenging angel, full of righteous power. 

Cas’s face turns cold and hard, and he takes over, thrusting into Dean’s mouth. He’s going deep enough to gag him, but immediately retreating. Dean can’t keep up, so he just lets Cas use him, breathing only through his nose in the moments when Cas isn’t blocking his airway. Keeping his eyes on Cas, he lets him see his struggle. Tears are forced out of his eyes, drool is pouring out of his mouth, and he’s dizzy with the lack of oxygen. 

Cas abruptly pulls out with a curse. “Jesus, you’re such a good little fuck toy, Dean.” 

Cas smiles at the immediacy of the glare. Good. He isn’t a sadist, and Dean is taking on a little too much willing submission for his taste. Don’t get him wrong, Dean is gorgeous like this, and it makes him ache to see him give himself over with fervor. But angry fucking is only good if both of you are on the edge, so he will push Dean until he gets there. Admittedly, It’s not the healthiest approach to sex, but Cas owns his flaws. 

“Oh, you didn’t like that, did you?” Cas teases. “What about cock slut?” Dean gets to his feet, wiping away the tears and spit roughly. “Cum dump?” Dean shoves him hard. 

“What is your fucking problem, Cas?” he grits through clenched teeth. 

“I’m so pissed off right now, I can’t see straight. That’s my problem. I know you’re angry, too. I saw it earlier when they had me in cuffs. Where’d all that fire go, Dean?” 

“I’m trying to be an adult and think before I react.” 

Cas shakes his head. “No, no. I don’t think so. You want me to burn off this rage? Turnabout is fair play.” Cas advances into his personal space, “So, either walk out that door, throw a punch, or bend over the fucking desk.” 

Dean’s eyes go arctic, his breathing like a bull. “Make me.” 

Grabbing his face between both hands, Cas devastates him with a dominating kiss. Dean bites his lip and shoves his hands away, both of them panting. He grabs Cas’s shirt and walks him backward until he hits the desk, licking and biting down his neck. When Cas tries to pull away, Dean fists his hair to keep him in place. 

Cas slips a hand down to grasp Dean and give him a firm tug. His eyes roll up a little, but he regains his composure and cups Cas’s jaw with his other hand. He drags his thumb across Cas’s bottom lip. “I know you don’t like to be touched, but I couldn’t care less right now.” Dean plunders Cas’s mouth with ferocious intent. “You wanted my anger? Here it is, baby.” 

Dean leans down to possess his mouth again while his hand grips the cock that had been shoved in his throat minutes ago. No longer slick, Dean is careful with the dragging friction. He wants to rip the condom off so that he can really feel Cas’s skin. He settles for cupping his balls and rolling them in his hand. Cas jerks against him and sucks in a rattled breath at the contact. The smugness Dean feels at surprising him is short-lived. Cas skates a middle finger down the cleft of his ass and rubs it firmly against the little knot of muscle. He rubs the fingertip back and forth quickly, creating such delicious sensations that Dean gasps and releases his grip enough for Cas to push him back. He turns and gets behind Dean before he can register what happened. 

In a blink, Cas holds his right arm tucked behind Dean’s back and his left hand pushes against the back of his neck. Dean fights against the hold, but Cas bends him over the desk and pins him there. Dean knew he was strong, but damn! When he tries to lift his chest off the wooden desk, Cas shifts to pin his arm with his torso to free up his hand and pops him soundly on the ass. The crack of his hand echoes in the almost empty room. Dean’s broken moan is almost as loud. 

“I’ll be damned,” Cas says with awe as he rubs over the handprint pinking up on Dean’s skin. “You weren’t just messing with me. You really get off on some pain, don’t you, sweetheart?” 

Dean grinds his ass provocatively against Cas’s cock. “Why don’t you keep spanking me and then you’ll know for sure.” 

Cas gets lost in the vision for a minute, but shakes it off as he grips Dean’s perfect ass cheek roughly. “Another time. I don’t want to hold back, and I’d have to if I beat your ass until you glowed for me.” 

Under him, Dean closes his eyes and whispers, “Jesus, Cas.” 

Cas hums as he widens the gap between his cheeks and rubs over the little knot again. “Normally I’d prep you right, rimming you until I had you dripping and gaping open. But that’s not what we’re doing here, is it?” 

“No,” Dean grits out.

Cas leans over and lets his collected saliva drip out onto Dean, slipping from his mouth, wet and warm, to pool in the little divot between his cheeks. He feels Dean tense and relax again as he smears it around the rim with his thumb. 

Part of him wants to let go of the anger and take Dean apart the right way, make him scream for Cas’s cock to fill him. The rest of him, though. He can still feel the harsh bite of the cuffs, feel multiple hands grabbing and shoving at him. The worst part? The thing that sends Cas’s temper into orbit? Dean actually believed that he was capable of such vile behavior. Talk about a crushing blow to one’s ego. 

Quick, perfunctory prep is all he has patience for right now. He dips his middle finger in past Dean’s rim, pushing and pulling on the edges. Sinking in all the way to his palm, he thrusts once, twice, three times and then pulls out. Dean’s gorgeous, greedy ass tries to hold him there, but he only returns for the briefest of moments with two fingers, scissoring them open to stretch him as much as possible. Cas loves the look of him spread open and waiting. He can’t wait to see what this little pink hole looks like when he’s done with it. Spitting into his hand for lube, Cas is at the end of his restraint. 

Without any warning, Cas lines up his fat cock and shoves mercilessly into Dean. He feels the tension spark along Dean’s spine as he invades his body and knows he would have come completely off the desk if Cas hadn’t been holding him down. There isn’t as much friction as Cas had feared, so despite the stretch, despite the complete way Cas has taken over all the empty spaces within Dean, he isn’t going to injure him. Dean’s vocal response soothes something primal in him. It’s simultaneously a rough shout and a breathy whine. The full-body shudder that follows emphatically agrees that he is irrevocably and thoroughly owned. 

Dean scrambles to get some leverage on the desk. After a few harsh thrusts, he is finally able to get his brain back online enough to accomplish desperate words. “Oh god. Cas. Fuck, yes!” 

Cas scowls and smacks him harshly enough to make his round cheek bounce out of rhythm with his pounding pace. The movement draws his eye and stokes his lust. He does it once more for the sheer visceral satisfaction, and then squeezes the muscle possessively. “This is not for your pleasure, Dean. It’s for mine. You aren’t going to come, remember?” 

“Oh, no. You don’t get to have your cake and eat it too, asshole. You didn’t want me submissive? You got your wish, baby. I’m taking all the pleasure I want from this. The way you’re fucking me? I’m going to come so fucking hard. I’ll probably see stars.” 

“I should have let you keep blowing me. Then I wouldn’t have to listen to you run your mouth.” 

“You love my mouth. You love hearing filthy, depraved things come from such a clean-cut guy. Don’t you?” 

He can’t deny it, so he stops talking and concentrates on the view. On every thrust in, Dean’s tiny, tight hole gives way and gobbles him up. It’s both the most obscene and the sexiest thing he’s ever witnessed. When he’s fully sheathed deep inside, the compression on his cock is unfathomable. Dean has him gripped tight, wringing pleasure from every nerve-ending. His silky, slick walls are scorching him. 

When Cas pulls out, the head of his cock catches on the top edge of Dean’s rim, so there is a near constant drag on the flesh that he knows Dean must feel. Cas lets go of his grip on Dean’s neck in favor of using his hand to separate his ass cheeks, pulling the skin taut with his thumbs. He rubs their point of connection with one of them, dipping it in just a tiny bit with the next push. Dean moans at the added stretch, and suddenly Cas has an imagination full of wicked intent. He whispers reverently, “Goddamn, Dean. The things I want to do to you.” 

“Tell me.” Dean's normally whiskey-deep voice is strangled and aching. He rears up onto his elbows for more leverage, which allows him to roll his hips back into the impact. The intensity skyrockets for both of them with the added power. It takes more than a few jittery breaths to regain their control. 

Cas rubs fingertips over Dean’s hip as he continues to toy with his entrance. “Have you ever taken anything bigger than a cock in your sweet hole, Dean?” 

Dean huffs out a laugh. “It certainly feels like it right now. I’ve never had anyone even close to your size.” 

“Am I hurting you?” Dean notices the question comes without even a minute decrease in speed or intensity. 

“Only in the very best ways,” Dean purrs. “You stretch me so wide I feel like I might rip, and you’re so fucking thick that you hit my prostate no matter which angle you use. It’s absolutely incredible.” 

Cas feels ridiculous pride fill his chest. He shoves in hard and holds there, letting Dean feel how full he is. Dean clenches down in response and they both express their satisfaction. Cas can barely hear Dean’s whispered praises with his forehead pressed tight to the desk. “So good. So fucking good.” 

Still buried to the hilt, Cas grinds slow and dirty into Dean. “Ungh! F-fuck. Cas! I’m gonna-” 

Cas jerks him up to lean against his chest and takes his swollen dick in hand, even as he continues the lascivious grind. “Everything about you is gorgeous, you know that? You have the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.” 

Dean turns his head in to offer up his lips for Cas to kiss. An incendiary flash of lust bursts over them at the contact, and when they pull away, they get trapped in each other’s gaze. Dean can feel the puffs of breath being forced out of him with Cas’s resumed pounding, blowing out across Cas’s lips. He is so overwhelmingly beautiful that it makes Dean ache. His anger melts away as they build a different kind of fire between them. 

Cas’s eyes are softer, almost tender in comparison as he commands, “Come for me, baby.” 

Dean can’t deny Cas, especially when he asks so sweetly. Orgasm rocks his body; pulses of white come shooting up his belly and over Cas’s hand. He can feel the answering thrum of the anal contractions around Cas’s cock, and that’s enough to push him over the edge. His head drops back as he mouths Dean’s name like a prayer. 

Cas pulls out carefully once they both catch their breath and wipe their sweat-soaked brow. Once again, he is fascinated with the wide open hole that collapses when there is nothing to force it open. Dean clenches around nothing, which makes him scowl and frown. Gently, Cas slides his thumb back in; rocking in and out, just enjoying the feel of it. 

“I’m beginning to think you’re obsessed with my ass.” 

Cas smirks, “I really am. I could do this all day.” 

Dean is sated, but nothing gets his motor running like Cas can, so he can’t help but comment. “Imagine how good it would look with your come sliding out while you fingered me afterwards.” 

Cas’s eyes snap to his, wide with shock, interest, and molten lust. His jaw drops and words won’t form. 

Dean smirks while he pulls up his jeans and zips them. He gives Cas a smacking kiss as he passes. “C’mon. I’ll drive you home.” 

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments bring me great joy, as do kudos.
> 
> [Find me on Tumblr here](https://angelaland.tumblr.com)


	6. Touched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds out what Cas has been up to, which leads to both touch and untouch(ed).
> 
> Plot and smut heavy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a birthday prezzie for smjieg, who asked so nicely that I couldn't say no.
> 
> It actually might be my favorite sex scene I've ever written, too. Maybe. Well, shit. Now I'm going to see that as a challenge and 'up' my game.
> 
> Enjoy!

Sitting in this pristine ‘67 Impala is a sensuous experience. The engine growls with enough power to feel its vibrations through his entire body. Running his hands over the supple leather makes his toes curl with sinful thoughts. A quick glance behind assures him that two grown men could easily make some glorious memories in that backseat. Best of all, sitting beside Dean while he drives his ‘baby’, chest puffed up with pride, is intoxicating. 

Dean grins at the look of wonder on his face. “I’ve seen that look before, Cas. You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” 

“She’s perfect.” Cas’s praise shouldn’t mean that much, not yet. He can’t help the fluttering in his chest at hearing it, though. 

Cas scowls at him. “Why the ever-loving fuck would you take the subway when you have this beautiful car to drive?” 

“I don’t like to drive her in traffic, mostly. If someone hit her, I’d probably end up doing prison time.” 

Cas chuckles in understanding. “So why tonight?” 

Dean clears his throat in discomfort. “I, uh. As soon as I realized that you weren’t, you know. I wanted to get to the station as soon as possible. I didn’t want to dick around with the train.” 

Cas looks out the window and bites his lip. He watches the street lights pulse by in a steady yellow glow. “We have some things to talk about.” 

Dean rubs his hand over his mouth, nodding. “Yeah. There’s some air to clear.” 

“Are you in a hurry to get home?” 

Shaking his head, he replies, “I don’t have any plans tomorrow.” 

Cas watches his face for a moment and then, decision made, tells him to make a left down Broadway. For the next few minutes, Cas navigates. They end up in a narrow parking lot behind an old tenement house. Even under his watchful eye, Dean’s face never slips into judgement, never seems to be uncomfortable with the ramshackle surroundings. “She’ll be safe here,” Cas feels like he has to declare. 

Dean pats his leg as he opens the creaking door. “Didn’t doubt it.” 

They walk to the front of the building and around the corner. Cas points out his apartment on the third floor, but they keep walking. At the end of the block, an ancient diner sings its siren song of enticing smells. Butter, coffee, and salty bacon waft through the air. Before he swings the door open, Cas takes in the expression of desire on Dean’s face. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy, Dean. I have to admit that I’m feeling a little inadequate.” 

They walk through the checkerboard restaurant, Cas nodding to a table toward the back, slapping another guy on the shoulder. He’s lived in this neighborhood most of his life, so his neighbors are more than that. They are the annoying, busy-body, do anything for you type of friends that he knows he can rely on. Dean flashes an electric grin back at Cas as he sits and grabs a menu. “Now you know the secret to winning my heart, Cas. Feed me.” 

“So all this energetic, athletic sex we’ve been having isn’t the answer? It’s bacon?” 

Dean looks at him like he’s a moron. “Dude, bacon is always the answer.” 

Cas rolls his eyes and watches the frazzled waitress arrive. Like he cast some sort of spell over her, Dean immediately has her undivided attention. He smiles and greets her, and her legs turn to jelly. Her entire countenance changes; the brilliant sun emerges from the storm cloud. Cas is fascinated by this phenomenon. They’ve only been out in public together a few times, but the response to Dean’s presence is always the same. He mesmerizes people, and they fall all over themselves trying to please him. Old, young, man, woman, rich, or poor – doesn't matter. Dean can bend them to his will with minimal effort. 

When he finishes placing his order with Doris, he turns back to Cas and finds himself being scrutinized. Cas is leaning his head in his hand and contemplating something about him. It makes him want to fidget away from his intensity. “What? Why are you staring?” 

“You’re fascinating. Have you ever met anyone who doesn’t like you?” 

“Pfftt. Of course.” 

“Name one.” 

“What? I don’t know names off the top of my head,” Dean argues. 

Cas hums in disapproval, but only responds with, “at least I’m not the only one that can’t resist you.” 

At that moment, Doris returns with their coffee, which they ordered, and water, fresh orange juice and pastries, which they did not. “The juice and bear claws are on the house. The kitchen is a little backed up, and I didn’t want you to wait too long.” 

She delivers the explanation directly to Dean’s lips, with a kind, but too friendly, rub of his shoulder. 

“Thanks, doll,” Dean replies as she scurries away. 

Cas smirks. “I wonder if she knows I’m actually here?” 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Everyone in this room knows you’re here, Cas. You put out a vibe that people can’t help but respond to.” 

He squints his eyes and tilts his head. “What vibe is that?” 

Dean takes a huge bite of a flaky pastry and considers his answer. Cas waits with unending patience. 

“Predatory. Dangerous. Not to be underestimated.” 

He laughs. “That’s ridiculous.” 

“Is it?” Dean raises an eyebrow in challenge. When Doris passes, he stops her to ask, “When you look at my friend, what is the first word that comes to mind?” 

She turns and gives Cas a once-over. “Tiger.” 

With a brilliantly smug smile, Dean thanks her. Cas sips his coffee, glaring at Dean. “That doesn’t prove anything. She’s obviously insane.” 

“Sure it does...Tiger,” he teases coyly. 

“Call me that again and you’re going to find out just how dangerous I can be, Dean.” 

His eyes sparkle with defiance. “You know that only makes me want to say it more.” 

“I’m beginning to realize that, yes. You seem to lack any self-preservation instincts.” 

“It’s called being fearless, Cas.” 

“Or reckless.” 

Cas can see a touch of hurt in Dean's eyes at the word, but he quickly recovers to the boisterous flirt Cas is used to. He begins to wonder just how much of that persona is bravado. 

Dean leans in to speak words that are no one else’s business. “Do you know how terrified I was of you when I saw you walking towards me on that train, Cas? You looked like you would eat me alive, and I couldn’t think of anything I wanted more.” 

Cas’s eyes devour him and a wicked smile emerges. “I actually intended to get off the train at that stop. I was just being a dick and trying to intimidate you. But when I saw the disappointment on your face? I was intrigued. I had to investigate.” 

“I’m glad you did,” Dean confides with a beautiful deep blush. “Not just for the sex, either.” 

Shock pins his eyebrows up. Cas is hardly ever at a loss for words, but Dean seems uniquely equipped to put him off balance. “Christ, Dean. You like to give me whiplash, don’t you?” 

“I know that was an abrupt gear shift. Sorry. But no matter what else comes of this little...thing we have going on, you need to know that I genuinely like you, Cas. I like hanging out with you.” 

Cas fiddles with the little sugar caddy on the table, uncomfortable with this kind of open affection and kindness. Finally, he looks up to meet Dean’s eye. “I like you, too. I didn’t want to, you know. I kept trying to make you fit into some ridiculous stereotype, but you don’t. Honestly, you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met.” 

Doris brings their food, giving them both the perfect excuse to let their confessions marinate in silence. Dean has several questions he wants to ask Cas, but he doesn’t quite know how to start. The answers are going to determine how they proceed. Dean wasn’t lying. He looks forward to spending time with Cas, and hasn’t been able to get him off his mind for weeks now. Their chemistry is blistering; sex so exceptionally good that he might not ever get enough, and doesn’t that scare the shit out of him. He’s never been good with relationships, but despite that, he finds that he wants more with Cas. 

Cas sighs. “Just ask.” 

That startles Dean out of his reverie. “Ask what?” 

“I can tell you’re stewing over there, trying to figure out how to ask me something.” 

Dean scratches his forehead with a thumb, and blurts out quietly, “How did you know where I live, Cas?” 

Cas puts his fork down and stares at his plate before pushing it aside. “I’m going to ask that you listen to what I have to say before you pass judgement.” 

Dean swallows hard, not liking where this is going already. He nods his agreement anyway. 

“Do you remember that guy I pointed out to you on the basketball court at St. Augustine’s?” 

“Yeah, the guy who killed prostitutes?” 

“Yes, Michael Boyar. Those are the only people he's been arrested for killing. He grew up around here and people talk. Word is that he’s been killing since he was in elementary school, and his first target was his brother.” 

“Okay, total nutjob, but I’m not connecting the dots here.” 

“There’s something I didn’t tell you that day. I could tell that he was interested in you. That’s why I asked you to kiss me in front of everyone. I thought that would make him back off.” 

“Let me guess? It didn’t?” Dean’s jaw was clenching, but he hasn’t adopted any other pissed off body language, which gives Cas hope. 

“No, he looked betrayed. It worried me, so I started following you to make sure that you were safe. I promise that my intention was only to monitor the situation and figure out how dangerous he could potentially be to you.” 

The silence coming from Dean hurts his ears. After the sweet, adoring looks he saw on Dean’s face just minutes ago, he can’t bear to see how Dean is looking at him now. 

“And?” 

“I went to the police. They can’t help without more evidence, so I tried to gather enough to get them to look into it.” 

“Why?” 

Cas looks up then. Dean is angry, confused, and struggling to maintain self-control. “Why would you keep this shit from me?” 

He runs his hands through his hair and lets them fall, defeated. “At first, I just thought I was being paranoid. Then, I wanted to get an idea of what he was up to. From there it just snowballed. After the night club, I wanted to keep you out of it to spite him. I didn’t want to get anything from you, including your fear.” 

“I need a minute,” Dean says in a distracted monotone, and then walks out the front door. Cas waits for a while, and then goes up to the register to pay the bill. He walks outside, half expecting that Dean will be gone. His idiot heart skips a beat to see him standing on the corner, staring off in the distance. 

“Part of me wants to beat the shit out of you for lying to me, for not letting me know that I was in danger. Not knowing could have put me at greater risk, Cas.” 

“I didn’t -” 

“I’m not finished.” 

Cas bows his head in silence. 

“The other part of me wants to thank you for recognizing the danger and trying to protect me.” 

He turns around then and erases the space between them. “Was Michael there when I was drugged?” 

“Yes.” 

“So, you following me like a wannabe spy and invading my privacy probably saved my life.” 

Cas shrugs. 

“He was at my house tonight, wasn’t he?” 

Cas wants, more than anything, to take the pain from Dean’s face. By confessing to Dean, he’s placed a heavy burden on his shoulders that he had been trying to carry alone. 

“Yes. I chased him away, but I lost him. I’m sorry, Dean. I wish it wasn’t true, but this psychopath is targeting you. I would do anything in my power to keep that kind of evil from your doorstep, which is what I was trying to do. Please believe me.” 

“I don’t know what to feel right now. This has been one hell of a week, and I’m so goddamn tired, Cas.” 

“If you want, you can crash at my place. You shouldn’t be driving right now. All of this will make more sense in the morning.” 

Dean lets himself be led to Cas’s building and up two flights of stairs. Cas doesn’t turn on any lights in the small space, just nudges him along into a room and shuts the door behind them. A click of a lamp illuminates the room enough for them not to stumble. Cas strips off Dean's coat and outer shirt, pushes his shoulders down to make him sit on a mattress on the floor, and takes off his boots. 

“Cas?” 

“Hmmm?” 

“I know things are a little strained between us.” 

“Yes.” 

“But...” 

When Dean clears his throat but doesn’t continue, Cas tilts his chin up to meet his eye. “What do you want, Dean?” 

“You. I-I'm freaked out, and I really need some comfort,” Dean’s blush explodes across his neck and down under his t-shirt as he ducks his head. 

Cas is utter charmed by his shy but brave admission. He ghosts his thumb along Dean’s plump bottom lip and purrs, “I’ll gladly keep you distracted, sweetheart.” 

Dean leans in, determined to ignite the glowing embers that are always burning beneath the surface for this man. He takes a possessive kiss, only wishing that he could pull him in like he desperately wants to. Cas pulls away, breathless. He pulls Dean’s shirt up and over his head, tossing it away, which frees up so much firm, tan skin that he doesn’t know what to attack first. 

“On your back,” he directs. Dean sprawls across his sheets wearing only low-slung jeans and a wicked grin. Fuck. “What a beautiful sight.” 

Dean looks to the side and laughs. “Cas, this is the first time we’ve ever made it to a bed.” 

His eyes go wide. “Holy shit. I didn’t even think about that, but you’re right.” He chuckles to think back over all of their trysts. “I think we might have a public sex kink in common.” 

Dean bites his lip provocatively. “No, sir. That’s all on you. I never once had sex in public before you. You’ve corrupted me.” 

Cas crawls over him slowly, holding his gaze as he dips down to kiss and lick all of his favorite places on Dean’s body. He straddles Dean and grinds down in a filthy circle of his hips. Dean gasps at the contact and fists his hands in the sheets. 

“Take it off, Cas.” 

When Cas hesitates, he pleads and promises, “I won’t touch, but I want to see. Please?” 

Cas takes off his shirt and lets Dean look his fill. His eyes flit from artwork to artwork, obviously overwhelmed by the embarrassment of riches. Dean licks his lips and Cas can almost feel it on his skin. 

Dean is salivating like a wild beast at the sight of so much ink. He’s always found tattoos sexy, but Cas’s are next level. They are true art, and Dean desperately yearns to feel all of that skin in his grip and under his tongue. He promised, though. He will have to be content to fill his vision and take the memories with him. 

“Dean, give me your hand.” He puts his right hand in Cas’s left, and watches as Cas turns it to face him and brings it towards his chest. Dean flinches when he touches the warm skin, but Cas holds him there. 

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

“I’m okay for now. I’ll stop if it gets to be too much.” 

Dean nods and then lets himself enjoy the guided tour of Cas’s skin. It feels so incredibly good to finally touch. He sighs when Cas slides his fingers over to his left pectoral, where a skull wears an ornate crown with so much dimension that it looks like it goes right through his body. He drags his index finger over the edges of the jewels, loving how Cas shivers above him. 

“Whoever does your ink is a genius. I’ve never seen anything like them.” 

“My friend, Meg, inks them, but they’re all my designs. I’m actually going in for her to start a new one in the morning.” 

Dean’s jaw drops and he smooths fingers over the skull again. “This is you?” 

Cas nods, suddenly flustered. 

“Cas, this is gallery-quality art. Do you sell any of it?” 

“It’s just for me.” 

Dean is flabbergasted. He can understand why Cas would keep it private, but his work is gorgeous. He could be a very sought-after artist. “Will you show me the rest of your work?” 

“Later. If you’re good.” 

Just like that, the art show is over and Cas has his full attention. He drags Dean’s hand across to the only vacant spot on his torso, and then down towards his stomach. 

“Why the open real estate?” 

Cas looks down over his heart, where the only spot breaking up clean skin is a little freckle above the nipple. “I’m hoping that I will want to have someone’s name there someday.” 

“Cas, you old softie,” Dean teases. In response, Cas pulls Dean’s hand over his jeans to press firmly over his erection. 

“There’s nothing soft here, I promise.” 

With a groan, Dean sits up, eyes blazing. “Can I?” 

Cas lets go of Dean’s hand to open his fly. He stands up to tug the jeans off and kneels back down on Dean’s lap. His thick cock is jutting up towards his stomach, and Dean wants to get his hands on it. He waits for Cas’s permission, which he gives with a nod. 

Hot and silky, Cas’s huge cock feels so good in his hand. He knows this is a rare opportunity to touch, so he’s memorizing the feel of him, soaking in every texture. He rubs his thumb back and forth over the frenulum, pulling a deep moan from Cas. When he slides the tip of a finger into his slit, Cas grabs the back of his head and plunders his mouth. “Fuck, I can’t believe how good this feels,” Cas admits. 

“Can you take a little more?” 

Cas nods but sets words aside. He’s already closing his eyes, concentrating on the feeling of Dean’s hand jacking him firm and smooth. Cas lets his hips undulate along with Dean’s hand, setting up a perfect counter-stroke that has Dean's cock sliding up and down the cleft of his ass. When Cas squeezes his cheeks together to give him some friction, they both let out breathy curses. “I want to keep going, but I also really want to bury myself in you.” 

Dean reluctantly slows his pace. Cas opens his eyes and smirks. “Decision made. I guess I’m fucking you.” 

“I didn’t realize it was such a chore,” Dean huffs. 

On his next breath, Dean finds himself flat on his back, both hands above his head trapped in a relentless grip, and his legs spread wide around Cas’s insistent hips. The intense blue gaze snaps fire. “Fucking you is my pleasure, Dean. Every time. As you observed earlier, I am obsessed with your ass and I will never pass up the opportunity to split those perfectly-round cheeks around my cock.” 

Dean’s breath shudders past his lips. His galloping heart trips with adrenaline and pheromones. He isn’t sure he will make it to the main event. Cas might just talk him into orgasm. 

“So, there was mention earlier of my come being fingered out of your ass. Were you just trying to make me stroke out, or is that something you want?” 

Dean is a strong, manly guy. He’s ruggedly handsome with a few pretty features. This dominant, commanding voice on Cas, though? It’s making him squirm. He’s never felt so overwhelmed, never wanted to be so submissive. Fuck, the things this man can do to him! 

He is practically whining as he answers, “I want it, Cas. I want it so bad. But it has to be safe.” 

“I get tested every two months, and I haven’t gone bare with anyone in years.” 

Dean gulps. “I’m clean, too. I was tested six months ago, and I hadn’t had sex in over a year before you.” 

His voice sweeter, Cas makes one more demand. “If we do this, we are monogamous. I don’t share, and I don’t take risks.” 

Dean is nodding before he finishes speaking. “Yes, that’s- Cas, that’s what I want.” 

Cas leans down and kisses him unlike any kiss before it. It is tender and achingly sweet. He reaches into a box beside the bed for lube. “Another first, sweetheart.” 

Dean huffs out a laugh and lets Cas do a quick prep job. He’s still pretty open from earlier, which Cas absolutely loves. “Fuck, I can’t wait to feel you all loose and sloppy.” 

Dean bears down against his fingers and circles his hips. “C’mon, Cas. Quit playing. You just told me that you’re going to fuck me bare and I’m going out of my mind. Please, Cas.” 

The desperate edge in his voice convinces him that Dean is ready. He lines up the dripping head of his cock directly on Dean’s puffy hole. This is his every fantasy for the last month come true. He pops the head in, pulls it up and out once, just to listen to Dean’s impatient sounds, and then pushes in. 

The difference between earlier tonight and now couldn’t be greater. At the police station, he was angry and chased the quickest, dirtiest release. This? This is decadent. This is heaven. He’s going to savor every ebb and flow, taste every inch of skin he can reach, coax every sound out of Dean that he can. He’d forgotten how much sensation is really dulled by condoms. Even so, it has never felt this spectacular. Dean’s walls are clamping down on him, dragging him along their wet heat. “Goddamn, Dean. It is so wet and slippery and perfect. I will never get enough of this.” 

Cas’s head falls to his and they pant and whimper together as pleasure bursts along their nerve-endings. Dean babbles nonsense and praise as he rolls his hips into Cas’s thrusts. His name is called reverently between murmurs of ‘fuck’ and ‘so good’ and ‘perfect’. Dean keeps his hands where Cas left them above his head, which creates the sexiest arch of his spine when Cas hits his prostate dead on. 

After a long slow climb that has them sweaty, heaving, and trembling, Cas finally sets a punishing pace destined for completion. Dean can’t get any leverage, so he can only take what Cas gives. He’s fine with that, but Cas wants it harder, wants to feel Dean’s ass pound back as hard as he thrusts. 

“Dean, hold onto my arms.” 

“Are-are you sure?” 

“Yes, do it.” 

Once Dean has a grip on his flexing biceps, their fucking takes on a brutal intensity. 

“Fuck, Cas. You’re going to get me there untouched. I can already feel it coming.” 

Cas redoubles his efforts and pulls Dean’s hips up to get the perfect angle. It catapults Dean into orgasm within seconds, his body convulsing around him. “You’re so huge, so goddamn perfect, Cas. Watch, baby.” 

Cas isn’t sure if the sight of Dean’s cock pulsing out come untouched, or the feel of his sweet ass milking his cock is what drags him over the edge, but he only lasts one more final push before his vision goes white and all he knows is the bliss of coming inside of Dean. On every thrust that follows, the warmth and wetness increases as he fucks through his come. It is obscene and glorious and he isn’t sure if he will ever be able to give this up. 

Dean’s grip on his arms has become light touches, but Cas isn’t feeling anxious. In fact, he’s liking the soothing caresses. Strange. He leans down for fucked out kisses that go on forever. 

“That was hands-down the best sex of my life,” Dean sighs. “I don’t think I can move.” 

Cas pulls out and lays on his side. “Agreed. I’m still shaking.” 

After basking for a few minutes, Cas grabs some sweatpants and slips out to the kitchen to grab a couple of water bottles. His roommates' doors are shut, but he doesn’t know if either of them are home. Hopefully not, because he knows that they were really fucking loud. He’ll find out tomorrow. Neither of them are shy. 

Dean has his knees up, but otherwise hasn’t moved. Cas passes him the bottle with a smirk. “I don’t have any straws, so you’re going to have to sit up.” 

“I was waiting for you to have your fun with my ass before I moved.” 

Cas hums his approval and tosses the water aside. He slides onto his belly and pushes Dean’s knees wide. One thumb tugs on his rim while he slides a finger up and down over the now much more open hole. It’s slick and gives way to the prodding easily. Cas sees the first pearl of his come peeking out at him and he groans. “Fuck, that is so sexy.” 

Cas kisses and licks over Dean’s inner thigh as he fingers the pearl back in. Possessive fire flares through him to see Dean leaking his come. Bone-deep satisfaction settles over him. He continues toying with the reddened hole, fingering Dean with no intent other than to enjoy the results of phenomenal sex. 

“This doesn’t bother you?” 

“No, Cas. I actually really like it. I just wish I could see it.” 

“Next time, we’ll have to have a mirror so you can watch. It’s really beautiful.” 

Dean hums, sleep evident in his voice. “I like that...next time.” 

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love comments. Please. All the comments.
> 
> [Find me on Tumblr here](https://angelaland.tumblr.com)


	7. Does He Know You're Here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean meets the roommates and does some soul-searching.  
> Oh, and they can't seem to stay away from each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been consumed with writing this week, which makes me blissfully happy. I hope you enjoy the new little chapter. It's almost 4,000 words, so it's not tiny or anything. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think!

Dean wakes in the night, needing a few seconds to remember where he is. Feeling heat against him, he turns to see Cas curled up, their backs pressed together. Fondly smiling, he turns over and lets his gaze linger over ink he’s never seen. On Cas’s shoulder, there is a man sitting on a tall pedestal, curled up on himself with his face hidden. In his hand is a mask of a face in mourning. That the man is nude and still maintaining his modesty only makes it more raw and vulnerable. Cas’s talent is incredible. He should be selling out galleries, not sleeping in a rundown tenement on a skinny mattress. 

Dean isn’t sleeping well because his pampered ass isn’t used to anything but memory foam and 1800 thread count sheets. He knows he’s living a charmed life, stalker notwithstanding, and he would never make mention of the financial disparity between them. They don’t get to choose their families or the circumstances that they are born into, and Dean is aware that he scored a serious win in the genetic lottery. His parents paid for school; the condo he’s living in rent-free belongs to them, too. Their help is allowing him to build up a significant savings so he can pursue his dreams. So, Cas will never even know that he notices how different their living situations are. Besides, to wake up next to Cas? He’d enthusiastically sleep on a bed of nails. 

He stirs from his art appreciation to take care of biological needs. He doesn’t bother to check the time when he snags his boxers. It’s late, and he’s going right back to bed. He finds the bathroom easily, thankful that the door was left open so he didn’t have to guess. He shuts the door before turning on the light, and immediately wishes he had fumbled in the dark. Some things are best left unseen. This is definitely the bathroom of multiple guys. Multiple guys that don’t give a rat’s ass about cleanliness. Dean tries not to look too carefully at the toilet he’s using. When he turns on the faucet, he notices that the only soap is a bar caked in grime. Okay, not using that. He pulls the shower curtain back and borrows some liquid body wash. That’s soap-like. With hands washed, he realizes there’s no towel. 

Sighing, he wipes his wet hands on his boxers and heads back to Cas’s room, only to be confronted by a man he doesn’t know. He startles and whispers, “Shit! You scared me.” 

The shorter man stands in the doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest. 

Dean points his thumb over his shoulder toward Cas’s room and nervously explains, “I’m Dean. I’m a friend of Cas’s.” 

“Does Cas know you’re here?” 

Dean is taken aback by the question. “Wha-um...yeah. He’s asleep.” 

“Yeah, I figured. But does he know that you’re still here?” 

“He told me to come crash at his place, so I would say that’s a yes,” Dean answers with a little snark. 

The guy’s brows raise to his hairline and he looks impressed, really looking Dean over for the first time. “Cas never, and I mean never, lets anyone sleep over.” 

Dean rubs his hand over his jaw. “Look man, if it’s not cool that I’m here, I can take off.” 

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m just shocked.” The guy advances a few steps into Dean’s personal space. His grin is a little too hungry for Dean’s taste. “Honestly, after what I heard a couple hours ago, I should have guessed neither of you would be going anywhere for hours. It sounds like you’re a fucking wildcat in the sack.” 

Dean takes a couple steps back, uncomfortable with everything about this conversation. He attempts a tense laugh, “Sorry about the noise. I don’t think he knew you were here. I certainly didn’t.” 

“So, now that you know...I’m wide awake if you want to keep me company.” 

Dean’s eyes widen, “Ah, thanks, but I’m going to get back to Cas.” 

He retreats to the door he left cracked open and puts himself on the other side of it. Leaning against it, he blows out a breath. That was fucking weird. 

“Dean?” Cas murmurs from bed. “Where’d you go?” 

“Bathroom.” He crawls back onto the mattress, hovering over Cas while he blinks up at him. “I met your roommate.” 

“Which one?” Cas’s voice is deeper in sleep, more of a growl than a voice in this register. 

“I-uh didn’t get his name. He hit on me, though.” 

Cas rolls his eyes. “Fucking Gabe. He didn’t freak you out, did he?” 

“A little. Just wasn’t expecting it.” 

“I’ll beat the shit out of him in the morning.” Cas pulls him down and tucks Dean in front of him. His nose runs along Dean’s neck like he’s chasing a scent. He hums with satisfaction and bands an arm across his stomach with a tight grip. Dean could definitely get used to this sleepy, affectionate Cas.

“Aww. That’s sweet. You’re going to defend my honor?” 

Cas snorts, “I suppose so.” 

“You know I’m bigger than you. I can defend my own honor.” 

“But I’m stronger, and I fight dirty.” 

Dean tries to look at Cas’s face, but it’s too buried. “I believe you fight dirty, but you’re not stronger than me.” 

Cas pauses, and then leans up to issue a challenge, “Try to get away from me, Dean.” 

As soon as Dean’s muscles tense to move, Cas has his other arm up around his shoulder and behind his head, his feet tangled in between his legs. Dean is pinned down and can’t budge a single point of contact. After struggling for a minute or two, he stops fighting and goes pliant. 

“See, sweetheart? I’m stronger than I look.” Cas purrs as he runs his lips along the hollow under his ear. Dean is panting from exertion, and Cas sounds like he barely tried. 

“Fuck, that is so hot.” 

“Yeah? You like that I can overpower you?” Cas pushes his hips forward to grind against Dean. 

“I really do. Strength is a huge turn on, but you already knew that. The way you held me down across that desk and fucked me earlier? Goddamn, that was blistering hot.” 

Another circle of his hips clues Dean in on the state of Cas’s arousal. He grinds back as he teases, “You getting worked up again thinking about forcing me to submit to you?” 

“Maybe. You might have to entice me.” Cas is fully hard and kissing down the side of Dean’s neck. The last thing he needs is enticement to want Dean. It’s a constant state of being for him now. 

“Entice you? Hmm. I could remind you that I’m still sloppy and open from you coming inside me earlier. Would that entice you?” 

Cas groans pitifully and clutches Dean to him. He lets go long enough to breathlessly demand, “Get those fucking boxers off.” 

Dean doesn’t hesitate. As soon as they are discarded in the sheets, Cas maneuvers Dean’s leg up and over his thigh to make room for himself. There’s no hesitation, just a warm slide into Dean. His words drag out on a moan. “Shit. You are so wet.” 

“That’s all you, Cas,” Dean reminds him and he is greeted with another loud moan. 

“How are you this open and still squeezing me? Perfect,” Cas praises as he nibbles down to Dean’s shoulder. Dean has picked up his smooth rhythm and he’s devastated by how well they move together. At this angle, Cas is shoved deep and not retreating very far when he pulls out. The tip of Cas’s cock is causing an ache in his abdomen, and he rubs a hand over his stomach to soothe it. He gasps when he realizes what the ache is. “Cas, oh god. Feel this.” 

Dean grabs his hand and pushes it into his belly. Every time Cas thrusts in, he can feel an answering bump under his hand. “Oh fuck, Dean. I can-I can feel it all the way through you.” 

He’s lost to a firestorm of lust and desire so overwhelming that he feels shattered by it. His grip tightens harshly, his nips turn to bites. He can’t get close enough, can’t get deep enough. He’s buried as far as he can get, and it still isn’t enough. He’s frantic and trembling. 

“Dean. Oh god, baby,” he cries. Over his racing heart and panting breath, he can hear Dean sounding his pleasure. 

“Yes! Yes, Cas. Fuck, you’re amazing.” 

He wants to jack Dean’s cock to push him over the edge, but there’s not much he can do with his left hand. He makes a fist and tells Dean to fuck into it. The first thrust up and push back down has Dean practically sobbing. They’ve been reduced to grunts and groans, words beyond them as they chase ecstasy. Cas adjusts their position, desperate to get that little bit deeper. 

Yes. That’s perfect. 

He is snapping his hips so hard that Dean’s breath is jolting out of him. Cas has never felt less human. Everything remotely civilized about him has been stripped away. He is fierce strength and possessive lust. He snarls when his balls draw up and his cock kicks with throbbing streams of come buried deep inside the warmest, tightest sheath. Even through the lust-drunk haze, he feels warm come bubble over his hand, and his satisfaction is complete. 

 

***** 

 

Cas comes back to consciousness while Dean is talking to him. 

“Sorry, what?” he croaks. Dean leans up on his elbow and turns to face him as well as he can with Cas still buried balls-deep. His face goes soft with affection. 

“Did you black out on me?” 

Cas blinks, trying to reconcile the feeling. “I-I think I might have.” 

Dean takes pity on him, and slides himself off the cock splitting him open. He winces at the tender, abused state of his ass. 

Before he can turn over, Cas halts him with a gentle hand. “Shit. Did I do that, Dean?” 

His fingers stroke over bruises that could be mirror images. He looks up at Dean, a broken apology on his lips. Dean soothes, “I’m fine with them, Cas.” 

As he turns, Cas is shaking his head in denial. “Fuck, I really lost myself. I don’t know what came over me.” 

Dean snorts and flops on his side facing Cas. “Really? I do, you possessive fucker.” 

Cas tilts his head, which makes Dean laugh. “I think you’ve got a little breeding kink, Cas.” 

His jaw drops to deny it, but he realizes he can’t. When he felt his cock bulging Dean’s belly, even just that little bit, he went crazy. Couple that with his fascination with seeing his come inside Dean; it actually makes sense. 

Dean watches realization and acceptance take hold. “Too bad you’re not straight, huh? Then you could breed for real.” 

“Jesus, that would be awful. I don’t actually want children.” 

“I know,” Dean teases seductively, “You just like the idea of your sperm catching because you’re so virile and you bred me so good, pushed it so deep.” 

Cas can feel himself flush, the heat of it burning his cheeks. He throws an arm over his eyes, but Dean pulls it down. “Don’t be that way. We all have our kinks, Cas. Now that we know, we can have fun with it.” 

Cas peeks at him with one eye. “You really aren’t bothered by me getting off on the idea of impregnating you?” 

Dean scoffs. “Why would I be? For Christ’s sake, Cas. I get off on having my nipples sucked on and my ass beaten red and blistering. While I draw the line at water sports, I’m up for pretty much any kink you’ve got rattling around in that head.” 

Cas blinks at him, awestruck. Dean is so open and free with his sexuality that it amazes him sometimes. The more he learns, the more intriguing Dean becomes. A small smile lifts the corners of his mouth. “So, since you approve of my kinks, will you let me see?” 

Dean rolls his eyes, but moves so that Cas has access to his sore ass. “Look, but don’t touch. You’ve fucked me brutally hard, three times in less than twelve hours. I’m never going to walk right again as it is.” 

Cas coos apologetically to Dean while he caresses and kisses his inner thighs. “I’m sorry, baby, I’ll be really gentle from now on.” 

“You’d better not be.” Cas chuckles at his pouting. 

“I’m going to sleep now. Close my legs when you’re done.” 

 

***** 

 

Dean hears a consistent, almost rhythmic scratching nearby, which drags him up into consciousness. The shadowy shape on the other side of the room resolves, with a few blinks, to a hunched over Cas, sketching in a small notebook. 

“What’cha doing?” 

Cas’s eyes meet his and Dean is trapped by the mesmerizing shade of blue. His face is clear of the eyeliner he always wears, and somehow, not having the contrast makes them...purer. Dean wants to sit at his feet and stare into them for eternity. 

“Just messing around,” Cas replies, but keeps working. 

“Can I see?” 

Cas stops then, and rubs his hand through his hair. “It’s not finished,” he warns and turns the book. Dean has never seen himself drawn. He blushes to see that Cas didn’t miss a detail. His freckles, his long eyelashes, even the shadow of a slight belly; he captured them all. 

“Damn, you are talented,” he praises. Cas is watching him warily, so Dean hands the sketchbook back to him without further comment. 

“Would you show me more?” 

Cas worries his lip, but nods. Leaning back behind him, he grabs a much larger book and passes it to Dean. “These are all finished pieces. It’s as close to an actual portfolio as I have.” 

While Dean peruses the book, he watches Cas out of the corner of his eye. He is adding color to the drawing of Dean, using tiny nubs of colored pencils that he is digging out of an old cigar box. Even though he appears to be completely captivated with the task, Dean can feel that part of his attention is on him, on his reactions. 

Each page holds a revelation. There are photo-realistic portraits, intricate abstracts, elegant cityscapes, and chaotic battle scenes. He tries not to touch, but his fingers are aching to brush over some of them, to partake of their beauty with more than just his eyes. He’s looking directly into Cas’s mind, seeing the way he perceives the world, and it’s utterly enthralling. This man wears a prickly mask on the outside to keep people away, but he doesn’t hide a thing in his art. His thoughts, pain, fears, and dreams are laid out on these pages as truly as if he had shed blood on them, drenched them in his tears. Dean finds himself getting choked up as he turns the pages, unveiling the layers of Castiel. 

The final piece, though. That piece breaks him. Cas has drawn a self-portrait, himself looking into a mirror, except that the features of his face in the reflection are distinct broken pieces of things, trash. This self-sacrificing, gorgeous man thinks he’s garbage? Something to throw away? Worthless? 

Dean sucks in a breath, feeling his eyes water and his heart crack. He meets Cas’s eye as a tear slips the edge and falls. 

“Shit!” Cas jerks into motion, knocking everything off his lap and going to his knees in front of Dean. He cups his jaw and asks, “What’s wrong?” 

Dean has to clear his throat before he can trust his voice to stay steady. “You-you don’t really see yourself that way, do you?” 

Cas looks down at the artwork and then away. His hand drops when he answers. “I drew that when I was in a really dark place. I have a better self-image now.” 

Dean scrutinizes Cas’s face. Finding only honesty there, he nods. Ducking his eyes as he swipes away the unfallen tears, he quietly confesses, “Sorry. I just had a really visceral reaction to that one.” 

Cas closes the book and sets it aside while he rubs his knee soothingly, but refrains from speaking. Dean smiles up at him shyly. “I guess you’re probably used to people overreacting to your art by now, huh?” 

Cas shakes his head minutely and replies softer than Dean has ever heard his voice. “No, I don’t let anyone see it.” 

Dean’s mouth parts in surprise, but he lets the words settle on their own, blanketing them both in comfort. He leans in to brush his lips against Cas’s, just a gentle nudge to remind him that they can. Cas closes the gap with hardly any pressure. Dean breaks the kiss and tips his forehead into Cas’s. After long moments, his lips twitch a few times. 

“What is it?” 

Dean gives him a Cheshire grin. “You’re breaking all your rules for me, Cas. I must be really special.” 

Before the final word is out of his mouth, Cas lets out an exasperated huff and shoves him away with a palm to his face. Dean lands on his back, chuckling. Cas busies himself picking up the pencils he scattered in his haste and dropping them into their box. 

“Here, let me help.” Dean joins him with the retrieval. When they are done, he asks, “Do you paint?” 

“I never really tried. The only thing I’ve ever had consistent access to was pencils, so that’s what I learned. 

“I know I’ve said it before, but your talent is phenomenal. At the very least, you should frame some of your favorites. You’re too brilliant to be hidden away, Cas.” 

Cas kisses his forehead with a smirk of his own and stands. “You’re really good for my ego, Dean. Now, I have an appointment for my new ink this morning. I’d like you to go with me.” 

Dean quirks a brow. “Really?” 

“Yes. I don’t think you should be alone right now. It’s not safe.” 

Dean scowls, a dark cloud collecting overhead. “I’ll be fine.” 

“We’ve been doing a good job at ignoring the elephant in the room, but I think we need to talk about what you’re going to do about the Michael situation. Have you thought about it?” 

“Can we talk about it over breakfast? I’m starving.” 

Cas concedes only because he’s just as hungry. He’s sure that they’ve worked off a ridiculous number of calories since they got back to his apartment. 

“Alright, we can go back to Mul’s if you want.” At Dean’s fervent agreement, Cas chuckles. “Let’s get cleaned up and we can go fill your belly.” 

“You’re too good to me.” 

 

***** 

 

They emerge from the bathroom together behind a gust of steam and honey-scented soap. Dean pulls up short when he sees Gabe and another guy sitting in the living room playing a first-person shooter game from a scuffed up and sagging brown sofa. Cas bumps into him and scowls at his roommates. 

He wanders over to Gabe unnoticed, and rears back to slap him soundly across the back of the neck. 

“Fucking hell, Cas!” 

He grabs Gabe’s face and delivers a calm threat. “Look at him or speak to him in any kind of inappropriate way again, and they’ll never find your body.” 

“Jesus, relax. Dean knows I was just playing, right?” 

“Yeah, no harm done.” 

Cas glares at them both in turn. 

“Besides, you already got your payback, asshole,” Gabe gripes. 

“What are you talking about?” 

Gabe looks at Cole and they both break into ridiculous imitations of the raunchy sex sounds they must been subjected to last night. 

Gabe adds with a girly, breathy falsetto, “Yes, Cas! You’re so big! Do me harder!” 

Cas's stare might actually make them both burst into flames, but Dean takes a much different approach. “He is, you know. Fucking huge.” Dean licks his lips, enjoying the repulsed faces they’re giving him. “And he knows how to use every inch. I wasn’t bowlegged before last night, you know.” 

Cas groans and pushes Dean toward the door while he's still cackling. “That’s enough out of you. Don’t encourage them.” 

Dean takes a last look over his shoulder to see Gabe gazing back in approval. Dean winks at him before Cas shuts the door. 

 

***** 

 

Dean wanders around the tattoo shop, looking at the walls of images. He isn’t overly impressed by any of them now that he’s seen Cas’s work. He’s trying to put some much needed space between he and the aggravated artist so they can both cool down. 

At breakfast, he had dodged Cas’s many attempts to discuss what he is calling the “Michael situation”. When they got to the car, Cas wasn’t having it anymore. He demanded to know the plan. Dean’s plan is to go about his life as usual with enhanced observation and the police detective on speed dial. Cas is not at all impressed with his laissez-faire attitude. 

“I don’t want to get too extreme with precautions, Cas.” 

“Death, Dean. He is a known murderer. That is how extreme the situation is. He’s already come after you twice. What makes you think he won’t keep trying until he succeeds?” 

“The police are involved now. I trust them.” 

Cas was livid. “Then you’re a fucking idiot.” 

Dean was sure that there was a story behind that response, but he didn’t push. The only words Cas spoke on the way to the tattoo shop were directions. Before he got out, he pleaded with Dean. “Think about how you would react if you were watching something like this happen to someone you care about. What would you want them to do?” 

Cas hasn’t said another word since. His sketchbook is open in his lap, and he's working on an ornate geometric piece. Dean doesn’t always have to fill silence. He can listen and sit quietly. This feels different, though. Cas is disappointed and he’s practically forcing Dean to come up with a better plan by refusing his company. In the back of his mind, Dean knows that Cas is right. It just feels too surreal, and he would rather ignore it and hope it goes away. 

He sighs and stares out the window. This part of Southie is gentrifying. Sway-backed businesses share walls with shiny new hipster establishments. This strip alone boasts a pawn shop, an upscale coffee shop, a pool hall, and a vintage clothing store that looks like it belongs on Rodeo Drive. Soon, most of Southie will be gobbled up and repackaged as chic. He wonders where all of his clients will move then? 

His thoughts drift back to the issue at hand. When he pictures Cas in his situation, he feels a tightening in his chest and a bump of adrenaline. Okay. He needs a better plan. He paces back and forth through the waiting area and finally sits down next to Cas. 

“Okay, I get what you were saying. I’ll take it seriously.” 

“Don’t do it for me, Dean.” 

“I know. I’m not.” 

“So, what do you have in mind?” 

“I’ll stay out of sight until Monday, and then I’ll meet with my dad at his office. He’s a bigshot criminal attorney, and he’s got some major contacts in the district attorney’s office. He’ll know the best course of action to keep me safe and how to get that asshole behind bars for good.” 

Cas hums his approval. “I wondered how you managed to sic the police on me so fast.” 

Dean gives a bashful smile. “It’s how I got you out of there so fast, too. I had to name drop like a motherfucker, though.” 

Cas barks a laugh at that. They hear a raucous shout from the back. “Cas! Get your ass back here!” 

Cas starts walking and gestures for Dean to join him. “I’ve been summoned.” 

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'd love to hear from you!
> 
> [Find me on Tumblr here](https://angelaland.tumblr.com)


	8. Distract Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas gets his new tattoo and some important truths come to light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> There are some important plot points in this chapter, as well as some lovely smut. You finally get answers about Sam, and Cas finds out some more about Dean's childhood, too.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Behind the beaded curtain, a tiny little brunette sits on a stool, eyes sparking with mischief. Her arms are covered in full sleeves, but nothing anywhere near as beautiful as what she’s put on Cas’s skin. When she gets a peek at Dean over Cas’s shoulder, her lopsided grin grows. “Aw, Cas. You didn’t have to bring me a present, but I’m sure glad you did. Come on over here, handsome.” 

Cas shakes his head at her as he flops gracelessly into the reclining chair, feet crossing at the ankles. “He’s not for you, Meg.” 

Dean takes the other chair in the small booth and grins. “Nope. Sorry, darling. I’m strictly team dick.” 

Meg leans over Cas’s legs to get a better look at Dean, who flirts back with a wink. “Team dick, huh? That is just too damn bad. Although, that explains why you’re with our dear Clarence.” 

Dean chuckles and sees annoyance mar Cas’s face. “What?” 

“You got that reference?” 

“Yeah, Castiel is an angel’s name, Clarence is the angel from ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’. Why? Did you not get it?” 

Meg is shaking her head and Cas just huffs and crosses his arms. “Okay, when the fuck would I have ever seen that movie? It isn’t exactly a popular choice at group homes.” 

His exasperation is adorable, and Dean can’t help stirring it up. “It’s a cultural icon, Cas. Besides, that wasn’t what I was laughing at.” 

Cas sighs and meets his eye. “I’m going to regret asking this. What were you giggling at, then?” 

Dean’s brow knits. “I don’t giggle. I chuckle, I guffaw, but I don’t giggle.” 

“I’m sorry. I forgot how manly you are. My mistake, Dean.” Cas teases and licks his lips, “What made you laugh?” 

“That’s the second time this morning that someone’s mentioned that monster you’re packing. Do you just whip it out for everyone you meet?” 

Cas challenges, “Third. You’re forgetting how you told my roommates, in graphic detail, why you’re walking so funny.” 

Meg sits back and watches something miraculous happen. Cas is flirting. Full-on, disgustingly cute flirting. He’s giving this ridiculously hot guy heart eyes; the space between them being eaten up as they drift closer. She couldn’t be happier for her old friend. He deserves something good, someone who will get past all of his armor. 

She busies herself with getting his templates ready while their conversation gets quieter, more intimate. When she turns, their heads are tilted together, lips hovering close enough to touch. A little shiver runs up her spine. Cas is her friend, but she’s not blind. Cas is a gorgeous man. So, seeing him with another strikingly beautiful man, completely wrapped up in each other and wanting? Yeah, it does something to her. She’s only human. 

“Alright, boys. Don’t make me turn the hose on you.” Dean reluctantly drops back into his chair to let Cas focus on the reason they’re here. He looks around the booth with appreciation. A Misfits poster hangs alongside her professional paperwork and portfolio shots. He notices with a tug to the corner of his lips that more than one of the pictures features Cas. When she gets the stencil positioned correctly, she gives him the option of leaving his shirt on or taking it off. 

“Off. Definitely off,” Dean chimes in with a lascivious smile. Cas’s eyes slide over to him, suddenly intense and hyper-focused, predatory. He stands up gracefully, looming over Dean, holding him firmly with his piercing, kohl-rimmed gaze. His fingers work slowly to pop the buttons, one at a time, letting tension build between each of them. Dean licks his lips unconsciously as more of his skin is revealed. By the time the sides finally hang loose, showing off all of that luscious ink, Dean is squirming in his seat. 

Anticipation and lust coast over his skin, raising awareness and leaving goose-bumped flesh in their wake. Cas stirs something primal in him, something so elemental and raw that it can only be part of his soul. His lips part as Cas finishes his quiet striptease. The only sounds breaking the silence are the rasp of fabric falling from his shoulders, and Dean’s labored breaths. 

At this point, Dean has seen Cas in one state of undress or another many times, so this display shouldn’t be that arousing. He’s had some of that beauty in his grip and under his tongue. Just an hour ago, they were in the cramped shower together, washing away their night of debauchery, so he was free to look at every inch of Cas’s skin. 

Maybe it’s simply because he’s submitting to Dean’s request, but this innocuous act of removing a shirt is suddenly the sexiest thing Dean’s ever seen. Cas drops the shirt in Dean’s lap and leans over for a brief, but blistering, kiss. “Damn,” Dean sighs when Cas stands up again, addled by how well Cas plays him. 

“Alright, Magic Mike, let’s get the lines done before my next client gets here.” 

Cas flips her off, but settles into the chair stoically. The buzzing needle of the machine makes Dean jump. Cas doesn’t flinch, even when she touches the needle to his skin. He does, however, look away. Dean’s fascinated by the process, and scoots his chair closer, practically leaning over Cas to see Meg work. 

“Why does someone so fascinated with body art not have any ink?” Cas asks him. The needles are loud and Cas is not. Dean notices his contemplative mood and answers quietly as well. “Well, I never found something that I’d want to put on my body forever. I have a vague idea of something that I want, but I don’t have the art to make it work.” 

“What’s the idea?” 

Dean bites his lip and looks down at his hands. “Uh, I’d like to do a memorial for my brother.” 

With a furrowed brow, Cas asks, “Your brother. He’s passed?” 

Dean nods his head without looking back up. “Seven years ago. He was a pretty troubled kid. Ran away when he was fifteen. He’s why I went into social work.” 

Cas rests his right hand on Dean’s arm. “I’m so sorry, Dean.” 

He gets no response other than a quirk of his lips and a curt nod. 

Normally, Meg would make a rude noise and bark at him to sit still. That she didn’t meant that she heard enough of their conversation to show them the respect of staying quiet. 

“When you’re ready to do it, I’ll help with the artwork. Just let me know.” 

Dean looks up at him then, smiling in appreciation. “Really?” 

“Of course. We’ll design it, and then maybe we can find someone who’s good enough to do the ink.” 

Meg recognizes Cas’s attempt to lighten the mood for all of them, so she plays her part of offended artist. “You come back and see me, gorgeous. I’d love to get my hands on you.” 

Dean chuckles. “I promise that I won’t let anyone else do it, Meg.” He lets his eyes roam over Cas’s arms and chest. “I’m a huge fan of your work.” 

Soon, she’s done with the lines, and sets her tools aside. “I’ve got a client until noon, but if you come back at about one, I might be able to get the rest done before my next appointment. I’ll get a good part of it done, anyway. Sound good?” 

When they’ve wrapped up his tortured skin and gotten back in Dean’s car, Cas asks, “Have you ever been to Castle Island?” 

“Can’t say that I have.” 

“Well, we’ve got a couple hours to kill, if you’re up for a walk?” 

Dean is a little surprised by the suggestion, but he’s always up for an adventure. 

 

***** 

 

As they make the final corner around Fort Independence, the view of Pleasure Bay opens before them. The protected bowl of the enclosed bay is buzzing with the multicolored sails of kiteboards. Gusty wind whips them around, letting the boarders lift off and stay suspended in the air for spectacular tricks. Dean catches the wide-eyed interest on Cas’s face, so he guides them to lean against the railing to watch. The tricks don’t always land right, and they both flinch in sympathy when one particularly daring guy bites it hard and then lays sprawled across his board to catch his breath afterwards. 

“Oh, shit,” Dean chuckles. “That looked really fun until just now.” 

Cas laughs along with him. “I’m pretty sure he’d agree with you.” 

“How high do you think they’re getting?” 

“At least twenty feet,” Cas guesses. “It looks like they’re flying.” 

Dean watches the look of wonder on his face fondly. His face is so open and innocent when he forgets to be guarded. 

When they make the turn onto the jetty, the wind slams into them. “Oh fuck!” Cas cringes and sidles close to Dean. “I can’t believe it’s this cold.” 

Dean teases, “You don’t spend much time on the water, do you?” 

Cas raises an eyebrow as if to say, ‘No shit.’ 

They hurry down to the large gazebo area called Head Island, hoping for a windbreak. Propped against a post, Dean tugs on the back of Cas’s leather coat to encourage him to lean in. With their backs to the wind, they gaze over the larger harbor and watch the ocean faring vessels cruise by. A two-masted schooner with vivid red sails hurries past, and Dean whistles in admiration. “She’s a beauty.” 

Cas hums his agreement and mutters, “I’ve always wanted to go sailing.” 

“I’ll take you whenever you want to go," Dean kisses his temple. 

Cas barks out a laugh. “Sure thing. Let’s head down to the marina with Biff and Margot.” 

When he catches the sincerity on Dean’s face, his mouth parts in surprise. “Holy shit, you’re not joking.” 

Dean shakes his head, face carefully neutral. “No. I grew up on an island, Cas. Boats are pretty standard.” 

The adorable look of confusion on Cas’s face as he tries to reconcile new facts warms his heart. “I thought you grew up here.” 

“Close. My dad’s always worked in Boston and commuted home when he could.” 

“Wait, what island?” 

“Nantucket.” 

Dean realizes that Cas is making certain dangerous assumptions. Yes, many of the assumptions are probably true, but he needs to head this off before it drives a wedge between them. 

Cas backs away, putting space between them as he runs a hand through his hair. The look on his face can only be described as shell shock. 

“Cas-” Dean starts, but he's interrupted. 

“Nantucket. Nantucket Island,” Cas asks in disbelief. “The most picturesque fucking place on the planet. That’s where you grew up?!” 

The hysterical edge to his voice worries Dean. He wants to reassure Cas, but everything he thinks to say just sounds patronizing. He goes with trying to downplay it. “It’s not a big deal, Cas. It’s just a place.” 

Blue eyes finally lock on his. “Just a place? You know what else are just places? Crack houses. Group homes. Alleyways. Fucking juvie. Those are the places I grew up, Dean.” 

Dean stiffens at the angry words spit at him. “I’m so-” 

“Don’t you fucking dare tell me you’re sorry,” Cas yells, startling a lady walking her dog behind them. Dean hangs his head and lets Cas walk away towards the water. 

“Shit!” Dean curses and leans his head back into the post. He knew that his upbringing could become an issue at some point, but he had really hoped it would be much later, once Cas really knew him. He watches Cas pace, looking like an irate god; his hair and clothing thrashing as if his temper controlled them. 

After several agonizing minutes, Dean resolves to act. He lets out a sharp exhale, and approaches with intention. The wary look he’s greeted with is expected, as is Cas trying to speak first. 

Dean beats him to it. “No, Cas. I want you to listen to me for a minute. When I’m done, I will listen to you for as long as you want to talk. Fair?” 

Cas closes his mouth and nods curtly. 

“I can’t help where I grew up any more than you can. I didn’t choose my family or their resources. I was incredibly lucky. I know that. They’re like winning the fucking genetic jackpot. But I didn’t do anything to earn my spot with them; just like you weren’t responsible for what you didn’t have. I wasn’t given this life because I’m special. It was just dumb luck. Life is so goddamned unfair that way.” 

Cas looks away towards the water again, swallowing hard around the lump of emotion. Dean isn’t finished. “I wish it had been different for you, that you had the comfortable childhood that I had. But don’t think I feel pity when I look at you. I’m in awe of how strong you are. Everything I am was given to me. But you? You did it all on your own. You’re a completely self-made man, and I’m blown away by that.” 

Dean waits for the blush to fade from his cheeks before he continues. “Besides, all of that shit is our past. It’s where we came from, but not who we are or what we’re going to be. I like who you are, and I’m enjoying the hell out of being with you.” 

When Cas finally meets his eye, he asks, “Will you please give this a chance?” 

No one has ever spoken to him with such impassioned longing, and it is equal parts exhilarating and terrifying. He is hesitant to believe these heartfelt words, but there is nothing but earnest intention on Dean’s face. Does he dare take the chance? Can they really overcome such a huge gap? 

Cas clears his throat. “It is in the past, you’re right. But our childhoods inform who we are as adults. Do you really believe that we won’t find too much uncommon ground?” 

Dean leans in and whispers, “We won’t know until we try.” 

Dean has never seemed arrogant, never showed any sign of disdain for the disadvantaged kids he works with. In fact, Cas has plenty of evidence to the contrary. He decides to take a leap of faith and trust that Dean will not turn out to be a huge mistake. 

Cas turns his head, catching Dean’s lips with his own, sealing the bargain with a firm kiss. 

 

***** 

 

With a mouth full, Dean moans. “This is so fucking good. Great call.” 

They had finished the full circuit around the small bay when Cas suggested that they grab takeout at Sullivan’s, a Southie institution sitting right on Castle Island. The fresh fish and chips is a hidden gem among the locals, and Cas is more than amused by how much Dean is enjoying his lunch. He scarfed down his first order, and then went back for seconds. 

Cas is perched on top of the picnic table next to Dean, leaning back on his hands and basking in the sunshine while Dean plows through his food. 

“Dean?” 

“Hmm?” 

“You said your plan was to hide out until Monday, right?” 

“Mhmm.” 

Cas nudges him with his leg to get his attention. “What are you going to do until then?” 

Dean looks up and shrugs his shoulders. “I should probably call around and figure something out. If I can’t find a place to crash, I’ll probably drive around randomly and pick a hotel.” 

Cas purses his lips and sighs. “You know it could be dangerous to bring your friends into the situation, right?” 

Dean’s face crumples, his shoulders drop. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.” 

“In fact, if you haven’t already, you should give Benny a heads up that Michael might come looking for you at home.” 

Dean wipes a hand over his eyes. Cas hates to bring all of this tension and weariness back to Dean, but he does need to think and be proactive, something that Dean seems to hate doing. 

“You can stay with me for as long as you like,” he offers. “It’s not much, but I’m subletting and I haven’t been there long. Michael shouldn’t be able to track you there.” 

“Shouldn’t doesn’t sound very sure, Cas.” 

“I’m not going to blow sunshine up your ass, sweetheart. I’m being honest. It’s safer at my place than yours, and I’m not worried about Michael showing up there. If he does, we all know how to protect ourselves.” 

Dean munches another bite of flaky fish and contemplates. “You sure your roommates will be okay with me being there two more days? They seemed a little put out this morning.” 

Cas gives him a wicked grin. “Gabe was just upset that you didn’t put out.” 

Dean stops chewing and deadpans, “You’re hilarious.” 

“They won’t mind, Dean. Besides, we don’t have to hang out there; it’s just a place to sleep.” 

Dean teases his tongue behind his teeth. “And what if I want you to fuck me? Are they going to be okay with hearing how good you make me feel, all the ways you make me beg for it?” 

Cas’s eyes go liquid, desire blossoming with the thought of having Dean under him again so soon after their marathon night. “I thought I wasn’t allowed anywhere near your ass for a while? Are you already rethinking your boycott?” 

Dean hops up to throw away trash as they head to the Impala. “Are you kidding? I was rethinking it as the words were coming out of my mouth. My ass and my libido are not in agreement at the moment.” 

Cas boxes him into the door from behind before he can open it and suggests, “There are other ways to satisfy you, sweetheart. We can give your poor, tender ass the night off.” 

“Mmm. I can’t wait to see what you have in mind.” 

“Besides, if you do decide you want me to take you? It’s not like we have an issue with fucking in public places.” 

 

***** 

 

Meg has been working on Cas for about an hour, and Dean has watched every dot of ink implant beneath his skin. He’s absolutely fascinated by how smoothly it flows, how the shading appears so flawlessly under her hand. In the beginning, he thought that the high-pitched whine and buzz would get annoying, but instead, it’s created an atmosphere of meditation. No one can hear anyone else, so they don’t talk; the noise is too distracting to drift off into your mind, so you’re kept continually locked in the moment. 

The only thing marring the experience for Dean is that he’s jealous over how easily Meg is allowed to touch Cas. Her hands drift over his skin to wipe away stray ink, to lay down dabs of Vaseline, and to brace the gun. He stamps the feeling out and shoves it into the far reaches of his mind. Whatever they have is new, fragile. He isn’t going to be clingy and demanding, no matter how much he wants to be. That’s not like him, and it definitely seems like something that would make Cas run for the hills, too. Even so, he finds himself wanting to rush forward in time to get to the point when he, too, will be trusted enough to touch Cas freely. Even with all of the time in the world, he knows that it isn’t a guarantee. Cas hasn’t explained his touch sensitivity, so Dean isn’t sure if it is something that he can get past. 

Looking up to check in with Cas, he notices that his jaw is tight, his brow furrowing. “Hey, you okay?” 

Cas snaps out of his own meditative state to acknowledge him. “Yeah, she’s just getting to the painful part,” he assures, blowing out a long breath to get on top of the pain. 

Meg stops to switch to a different shade of gray and nudges Dean. “Why don’t you help distract him, Romeo?” 

Dean smirks and moves to Cas’s other side. “So, it wasn’t painful until now?” 

Cas huffs out a laugh. “It’s all uncomfortable as hell. This section under the roses is going down to cover my wrist in almost solid black, and there isn’t much muscle to pad it. It’s all bone and tendon-” 

“Which stings like a motherfucker,” Meg interrupts. 

As soon as the needles start buzzing again, he sees the slightest flinch cross Cas’s face. That’s it. His breathing might be slightly elevated, but other than that, a kitten might be licking him for all his reaction reveals. 

Dean’s been sent on a mission though, and he’s nothing if not obedient. “Can I kiss you, Cas?” he whispers near his ear. A pleased grin eases onto his face and he turns to offer his lips to Dean. 

He takes the proffered flesh gently, treating them like the treasure they are. His wide, firm lips are petal-soft to brush against, but Dean knows how they can just as easily demand, how they can make him ache. Reverently, he drags his tongue against them, begging for entrance. A soft sigh escapes as Cas opens for him, and that makes Dean greedy for more. He invades the wet cavern of Cas’s mouth, intent on pulling more sounds from his depths. 

Cas is aware of the bite of the needles, knows that it hurts just as much as he anticipated. The context has changed, though. Discomfort is taking a backseat to the scorching fire that Dean is making him feel. He is devouring his mouth, unyielding in his demand for Cas’s attention and participation. Their mouths move together languidly, but with an intensity that makes promises for what will come later. 

Dean breaks the kiss to whisper to him, “Jesus, I don’t know what you’re doing to me, Cas. One good kiss and I’m desperate for you.” 

Their eyes catch on each other and refuse to move away. Dean can see the answering lust mirrored back at him, something dark and primal surfacing that makes Dean’s breath hitch. 

“Are you going to let me have you again so soon?” Cas croons in that rumbling timbre that he can feel slither down his spine. 

“Yes, anything you want,” Dean vows. The heat of his desire is flushing his skin and making his voice shake. 

Cas lowers his gaze to Dean’s mouth, ready to have more of their perfection, to drink deep from Dean’s insatiable passion. They trade light pressure for nipping bites, tongues soothing while igniting need and a pleasurable burn. When a particularly sharp twinge strikes, Cas bites down harder than intended, and Dean growls his appreciation. 

Meg stops the gun, sitting back incredulously. “Fucking hell, guys. I said distract him, not get him off.” 

Cas and Dean both startle away from each other at her voice, Dean looking sheepish, Cas...not so much. The wolfish leer teases as he chides, “You should have been a little more specific, Meg.” 

She huffs and finishes the last little touches, and then mutters about live porn and ungrateful friends as she cleans up. Cas taps her side with his foot. She shoves him away and turns snappishly, “What, you asshole?” 

Cas sticks out his bottom lip, pouting comically. “I’m sorry, Meggy.” 

She rolls her eyes at him but can’t hide the smile. “Whatever, freak.” She tosses him the jar of Vaseline to start wrapping up the new ink. Before he can get the lid off, Dean stops him. “Can I?” he asks quietly. There is so much yearning in his eyes that Cas doesn’t have the heart to deny him. He sits on Meg’s vacated stool and carefully applies a layer of the jelly over the skin that is reddened from its abuse. Dean turns his arm with firm fingers, the pressure of them exactly enough to keep Cas from getting anxious. “This looks even better on you,” Dean comments as he works, “and I loved it on paper.” 

“Thanks, lover boy, but he does all the heavy lifting with that gorgeous artwork.” Meg hands him gauze bandage. “So when do you think I’ll get you in my chair?” 

“As soon as I have the design, I’ll be here with bells on.” 

Cas stands and lets Dean slide his arms through the shirt and then he leans down to swallow Meg in a hug. “Thank you, Meg. It’s beautiful, and I appreciate you making time for me.” 

“Keep bringing that pretty boy with you, and we’ll call it even.” 

“Deal.” 

 

***** 

 

Dean barely has the car door unlocked when Cas is on him. He slides both hands up underneath his shirt to wander over his chest; he mouths at the junction of his neck and shoulder like he wants to take a bite. Dean’s eyes snap closed to focus on the frenzied attack. “F-fuck, Cas,” he gasps. 

“You taste so sweet, Dean. I want more,” Cas pleads, madness at the edges. 

Dean spins and takes what Cas wants. They both groan in satisfaction at picking up where they were forced to leave off. Cas pulls Dean’s body flush with his, hands cradling his head and cupping his hip. They writhe against each other, Dean only barely cognizant enough to keep his hands on the door handle. When they pull away for breath, lust-blown pupils greet each other. Cas pushes his thigh in between Dean’s legs, giving him friction to grind on. Cas sucks and bites down the length of his neck. “Damn, I want you so bad right now. You’re like a drug, baby.” 

Dean whimpers at the onslaught and tips his head back to give Cas more room. “Yes,” he moans and circles his hips against the erection tenting Cas’s jeans. His grip tightens on the handle, knuckles fading to white with the clench. 

“We’re only a few minutes from my place,” he says, but Dean is already shaking his head, breath panting and eyes wild. 

“Now, Cas. I can’t wait.” 

Dean shoves him back just enough to open the back door to the Impala. He climbs in and scoots back to make room for Cas. Cas grins and follows, pulling the door shut behind him. “I’ve been fantasizing about getting you in this backseat, you know.” 

Dean licks his lips and grins. “Yeah? What are going to do with me now that we’re here?” 

Cas prowls forward to where Dean is sprawled across the seat, stalking him on all fours. “I had planned to get you back here when we were somewhere more secluded. Sitting in the middle of town in broad daylight limits our options a little.” 

“You’re a creative guy. I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Dean whispers against his lips. 

Cas lights up with the challenge, quickly getting Dean’s jeans undone and pushed off. “Touch yourself, sweetheart. I want to watch you.” 

He goes to work on his own jeans, but only pushes them down past his knees. His eyes never drift away from Dean, who wastes no time in moving his hands over his own body. He bites his lip when his right hand grips the base of his cock. His left hand coasts up to his nipples, fingers teasing and tweaking them in time with his slow strokes. “Hurry, Cas,” he begs. 

Sweet agony torments Cas as he watches. “Goddamn, you’re beautiful,” he praises and guides Dean into his lap, pulling and pushing to get him close enough to grip both of their cocks in his hand. Dean circles his hips, forcing Cas’s grip to loosen enough to let his cock slide against Dean’s. Cas lets his head fall back against the seat with a groan. “So fucking sexy,” he breathes. 

Dean pulls his shirt off over his head, the humid air in the enclosed space dampening his skin already. Cas sits up with interest. “Lean forward and brace yourself over me,” he commands. When he’s close enough, Cas laps at one of Dean’s nipples, which he knows are hyper-sensitive. Since their brief kink discussion the other night, a thought has been plaguing him. This is the perfect opportunity to experiment. Dean immediately jerks as if Cas was applying electrical current. He hums in approval. 

Cas worries the flesh with his tongue and teeth, coaxing it to harden and lengthen. Dean’s head tips back on a long moan. His hips continue to move, dragging their swollen cocks together. When the nipple feels full and swollen, he sucks on it, feeling Dean shiver over him. “Yes, that feels incredible.” 

“More?” Cas questions, hovering just above his skin, not to tease, but to be sure he’s on the right track. “Fuck, yes. Please... Please, Cas!” 

The stronger he sucks, the more desperate Dean’s pleas become. So lost in his pleasure that he isn’t aware of it, one of his hands grips tightly in Cas’s hair. Cas refuses to let it affect him. He isn’t going to allow his bullshit to ruin this moment. One deep cleansing breath, and he pushes away the anxiety, letting his focus return to the amazing sight of Dean coming undone in his lap. 

“Cas, I can come just like this, but it isn’t going to get you there. Can I help?” 

He’s looking down at where Cas’s drooling dick is bobbing loosely against his. He nods his approval and Dean drips gathered saliva into his palm. When he squeezes them together, the slick friction feels fucking fantastic. “It’s a little gross, but effective,” Dean smirks. 

Cas huffs out a laugh and watches the perfect sight of them rubbing together, Dean stroking them so that the heads of their cocks fit together in the tunnel of his hand. When another thick, sticky drop of precum bubbles up from Cas, Dean collects it on his finger and rubs it all over the slit and frenulum of his own cock. Cas barks out a curse and looks up at him. “That is so fucking hot.” 

“Mmm. I like you all over me,” he murmurs and Cas’s brain just about shorts out. The possessive beast in him wants to take the idea and run with it. He wants to cover Dean in his come, keep himself wrapped around this man until they smell and taste like each other. 

He’s brought back to the present when Dean does something new with his marvelous fingers. He slips their flared heads in between his fingers, so that each cock is rutting up in between two tight fingers while the rest of their lengths are still rubbing against each other. The pressure is exquisite, mimicking the press against a barely-stretched rim. “Does that feel familiar, Cas?” 

He nods his head, slack-jawed, because words are too much. Cas knows he isn’t going to last. He’s got just a few more strokes in him before Dean sends him over the edge. This feels too good, and he can’t get his all-consuming desire for Dean under control. The more time they spend together, the worse it gets. Instead of getting him out of his system, every hour makes him yearn for more. His voice is like honey, his body like heroin. 

Cas pulls Dean down to him, kissing him breathless. “I’m gonna come, baby.” 

“I know. Me too,” he smiles brightly, joy and mischief obvious in his eyes. “Race you.” 

Cas holds Dean’s hips and bucks up against him while he strokes them to completion. Dean sighs at the additional friction behind his balls. 

“C’mon, Cas. Give it up,” he urges. “Come all over me, baby. Make me yours.” 

Cas’s body locks up with a shout. The images sear into his mind’s eye, and then he’s doing it for real. Hot splashes of come jet out onto Dean’s stomach and chest. As soon as the first one erupts, Dean sounds his pleasure. “Oh god, so perfect. Fuck, Cas. I’m coming, too.” 

Cas watches Dean’s body tremble above him, losing the rhythm when he gets lost just at the edge of orgasm. Cas swiftly takes over, stroking Dean long and smooth, talking him over the edge. “That’s it, baby. I can’t wait to taste that sweetness. Let me have it.” 

That’s all it takes. Dean’s shaking gives way to thrumming as his cock kicks out thick, milky pulses. He sways forward and Cas pulls him down to his chest to let him get his breathing under control and bask along with him. 

The heat of the day, coupled with energetic sex and heavy breathing, has fogged up every inch of the Impala’s windows. Dean chuckles when he notices it. “I guess we didn’t have to worry about being seen after all.” 

“Normally, I would suggest that we go for round two, but we are both drenched in sweat and come. I think we should head back and shower.” 

Dean sits up a little and says, “Hey. I had an idea that I want to run past you, and I don’t want you to say no immediately. Just, think about it for a minute, okay?” 

Cas tilts his head, but Dean sees that he’s open to listen. 

“So, my original plan was to go hide out in a hotel for the next couple of nights, right?” 

“Yes,” Cas agrees hesitantly. 

“What if I still do that, but you come with me?” 

Cas can see that Dean is nervous. He’s unsure of himself, and Cas feels terrible about it. Dean thinks that he will turn him down because money is involved. He’s not wrong. Cas’s initial instinct is to push him away. But he wants to be with Dean. He wants to get away from his shitty apartment and enjoy a little luxury. 

Dean is about to start back-pedaling, telling Cas to forget he mentioned something so ridiculous, when Cas shocks him. 

“So, are we talking fluffy robes and room service?” 

Dean beams at him brightly. “Sure, Cas. We’ll make sure they have a pool, too.” 

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having great fun with this story, in large part because of the conversations with you wonderful readers. Please stop by and leave a comment. They honestly make my day.
> 
> [Find me on Tumblr here](https://angelaland.tumblr.com)


	9. Public Consumption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean hide away in luxury.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening, faithful readers!
> 
> Welcome to anyone stumbling upon this story for the first time.
> 
> This chapter is smutty, kinky, fluffy goodness, so I hope you enjoy!

“Okay, next turn?” 

“Um. Right this time.” 

Dean chuckles. “There isn’t actually an option to go right.” 

He gets a huff from the passenger seat. “Then why didn’t you just turn left?” 

“Because that isn’t part of the game, Cas. I told you I would ask at every intersection. I’m a man of my word.” 

“Your integrity is truly remarkable,” Cas snarks from underneath the baseball hat pulled down to masquerade as a blindfold. They both agreed that wearing an actual blindfold through the streets of Boston was inviting trouble when the entire point of their journey was to find anonymity among the masses. 

There are moments in life that become lasting memories, and you wonder: why that particular day? Why that moment? What was so special about it that my mind chose to never let it go? Some moments, though, you know as they’re happening that they will be precious; put on the highest shelf and taken down to admire when you need a little warmth and happiness. This windows-down, sunshine drive with Cas; this ridiculous game played to the soundtrack of classic rock, car horns, and easy laughter will forever be etched on his heart and in his mind. 

After an hour of driving around the city, Cas finally decides that he’s ready to find their home for the night. He tugs the BU baseball hat off, much to Dean’s dismay. He really likes seeing Cas in his clothes. Cas seems distraught to find that they are in the Seaport District. “Shit. This area is a little too posh. Let’s try a little farther away from the water, Dean.” 

Dean grins. “Nope. That wasn’t the deal. You navigate and we stay wherever we land. We landed here, so we’re staying here.” 

The pained look on Cas’s face makes Dean soften his approach. “Hey, I was planning to find a stuffy, upscale hotel in Cambridge which would be just as expensive as anything here. You aren’t costing me a thing, and I’m having a hell of a lot more fun with you here.” 

Cas bites his lip and looks around. Within view, there are at least four luxury hotels. Being amidst so much wealth has his head spinning. He blows out a heavy exhale. “Fine. Which one, though? This is in your wheelhouse, not mine, so you pick.” 

Dean winks at him, praising his acceptance with a toothy smile. “The Envoy. Definitely.” 

Cas is silent throughout the check-in process, and Dean is smart enough not to push. He’s figured out that Cas is surly and mean when he’s nervous, more of the armor that he wears to keep others away, to protect himself from pain. Dean’s certain his intensity is intimidating the young woman behind the reservation desk. Her eyes dart between them and the other desk agents, and she’s cleared her throat more than once. Helen, with her quiet, orderly life fueled by lattes and defined by the hand-knotted pearls at her neck, doesn’t know how to deal with a man like Cas. He’s too raw, rough, and unpredictable. 

Cas’s grip on his duffle bag doesn’t relax until the doors to the elevator separate them from the crowded lobby. Dean knows they only have five floors to climb before they open again, but he needs to help Cas find secure footing in this unfamiliar environment, and Cas is very sure of his sexual prowess. He turns to face Cas, boxing him in with his body. An entire negotiation is struck with a lift of a brow, a quirk of the lips, and eyes dilating with desire. Dean brackets his hands against the stainless steel walls and leans in to plunder Cas’s willing mouth. 

Apple pie. Fuck if Cas understands it, but Dean tastes like hot, cinnamon-spiced apples. Even after using Cas’s toothpaste this afternoon, his natural flavor remains. He lets Dean dominate the kiss, sinks in and savors being consumed. Too soon, the elevator jolts to a stop and the doors open. 

Everything about this hotel is pristine. It is so shiny and new that it almost hurts to look at directly. Nothing is scratched, or dented, or stained. Cas isn’t sure how to process these unnavigated spaces. He’s tense with the need to not be the one that mars the perfection. Where he’s from, no one worries if coffee cups leave rings or a stray baseball dents a fence. Decades of use and abuse give the entire neighborhood a patina of worn-in and comfortable. Here, though, not a single carpet fiber dares to twist in the wrong direction. When Dean opens the door, Cas can see straight through the large room with its vaulted ceilings and floor to ceiling windows. The seaport is laid out in front of them like a postcard. He wanders over to them, drawn like an insect to blinding light. Looking down, he watches multi-million dollar ships slide through the sparkling water. 

Behind him, Dean flops onto the bed gracelessly and groans. “Oh, god. I want to marry this bed.” 

Cas turns with a fond smile, eyes zeroing in on the strip of tanned skin peeking above his waistband. His mouth waters at the now familiar sight. He knows exactly what that delectable, unwrapped skin tastes like, feels like under his mouth. Dean holds out a hand in invitation. Cas knee-walks over to him on the gigantic bed, centered in the middle of the room. 

“Good, isn’t it?” Dean asks. 

“Fucking perfect,” Cas sighs as he melts into the layers of down, silk, and memory foam. ‘This is why people chase wealth, why they are ruthless and deceitful,’ Cas thinks. This level of comfort is beyond belief. Cas feels like an imposter, laying here next to this golden boy. He refuses to waste this weekend, though. He’s going to soak up the luxury and force himself to feel like he’s entitled to it, if only for these precious hours. 

“Do you want to go up on the rooftop?” 

Cas questions with a tilt of his head. 

“There’s a bar up there. We can have a drink and enjoy the sunset.” 

“Are you sure that’s safe?” 

“Cas, no one knows where we are. He didn’t follow us, and we’re so far removed from either one of our routines that there are about a hundred places he would check before someplace like this. Please? Let’s go drink fancy drinks, eat a really good dinner, and then I promise that we will hole up in here for the rest of the night.” 

Cas concedes easily. Of course he does. ‘Whatever Dean wants’ seems to be his new mantra. When they step out on the roof, he’s glad he did. The view is spectacular as the evening is threatening to descend over the sunny day, squashing its airy light down to a concentrated gold. Dean leads them to an open booth that looks more like two cozy futons facing each other over a long coffee table. They’re on the north edge of the building, occupying the perfect vantage point for both sunset and port views. 

When Dean opens the drink menu, he urges Cas to do the same. 

“I’m just going to have a beer,” Cas replies. 

Dean scoffs, looking wholly offended at the prospect. 

“You can get beer anywhere. You can’t get these drinks anywhere else.” 

Cas furrows his brow and Dean rolls his eyes. “Whenever my family goes to a super fancy restaurant, we make it into a game." 

“Color me surprised.” 

“Shut up, you love my games.” 

Cas doesn’t disagree, so he forges ahead with the explanation. “We always order at least one drink from their specialty menu. At dinner, we only order appetizers and desserts.” 

“Why?” 

Dean shrugs. “Why be limited to one entrée when you can taste a bunch of different little things? And, you always leave room for dessert.” 

Cas still looks skeptical, but picks up the drink menu. He can’t believe what he is seeing. Every cocktail has a clever name followed by a list of exotic ingredients: falernum, aquavit, carpano...he’s never heard of half of them. “What the fuck is Averna?” 

Dean shrugs, waving the waitress over. It turns out that it is a sweet and bitter drink like Campari. That would be super helpful if he knew what Campari tasted like. Dean points to the drink he thinks Cas should get. “The Southie Shuffle?” 

“Sure. Homage to home and all that.” Dean licks his lips with a sly grin. “And I know how much you like maple and cinnamon.” 

Suddenly, Cas is sorry that he sat across from Dean instead of cozied up into the seat next to him. Actually, it’s probably a good thing that they have space between them for now. He’s ready to fulfill the promises Dean’s body has been making since they arrived. As much as he wants him, he can be patient, let the arousal simmer and percolate. He can wait. His eyes drop to Dean’s to return the tease. “Sounds yummy. What have you set your sights on?” 

Dean feels a little shiver go up his spine at the blatant purr of Cas’s innuendo. “Well, for now, I want the Cider Sangria.” 

"What is that?” 

Dean looks back at the menu, “Um...rum, white wine, brandy, apple cider, and cranberry soda.” 

“Am I going to have to pour you into the elevator later?” 

“Nah. I have plans for you, Cas. It wouldn’t do to get too liquored up.” 

“Good answer.” 

After their first round, they try two new drinks and watch the sun set over the city. Cas does move around to sit with him when the live music starts so they can hear each other. Seeing Dean in this creamy, golden light makes his heart ache. While Dean takes a picture of the sunset, Cas sneaks a picture of him. 

“I saw that,” Dean confirms without turning. 

“You look beautiful in this light, sue me.” Cas grumps and leans back into the seat. 

Dean snuggles in close and holds his camera up to take a picture of both of them. 

“Are you really taking a selfie?” 

“I know. Horrifying, right? Smile, Cas. Look like you want to be here with me.” 

He turns and butts his head gently into Dean’s cheek. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be, sweetheart.” 

He has to admit that the pictures Dean takes capture the moment perfectly, and he asks Dean to send them to him. Dean, being the little shit that he is, makes him grovel and beg before he relents. 

The restaurant is adjacent to the rooftop bar, so they don’t have far to go when it’s time for their reservation. Dean leads the way behind the hostess, leaving Cas to get a good look around. Minimalist, clean design leaves the gorgeous view as the showpiece of a large, open room lit by strategic lighting. Wrought iron, bare wood, clear glass, and succulent green make up the entire aesthetic. 

This menu is even more overwhelming than the drinks. While he recognizes all of the words, he’s never seen them in these combinations: bamboo rice, crispy garlic, whipped yogurt, quail yolk, pickled cilantro, turmeric cream. He’s intrigued, but looks to Dean for assistance. They agree on steak tartar, yellowfin tataki, beer braised pork cheeks, and cognac mac & cheese with lobster. Each and every one of the appetizers is decadent and rich. It’s an embarrassment of riches if he’s ever seen one. After he’s had a bite of each dish, he has to admit, “This is a brilliant idea. I would have been so disappointed to have to choose just one thing on that menu.” 

“I know, right? This is so much better.” 

Cas can tell that something is on Dean’s mind. He is watching every bite Cas takes with a little too much interest. Whenever he closes his mouth around his fork, color rises into Dean’s cheeks. By the time their plates are cleared, the man is practically squirming in his seat. 

He covers Dean’s hands, which are fidgeting around his pilsner glass. “Hey, talk to me.” 

Dean looks away guiltily and clears his throat. “Not really conversation for public consumption.” 

“Did I do something wrong?” 

Dean chuckles and shakes his head. “No. You did everything right. Exceptionally right.” 

The mysterious statement has Cas reviewing and cataloging every interaction from the past fifteen minutes, which leads him to an epiphany. He leans in closer to Dean with a sparkle in his eye. “You’re not upset. You’re really turned on, aren’t you, baby? I’ll bet you’ve got a little feeding kink, don’t you?” 

Dean freezes. Swallows. Waits for the judge to reach a verdict. Poor, darling Dean. So willing to accept Cas’s strange desires and yet he's not comfortable with his own. 

Cas flags down their waitress. “Can you please add your favorite dessert to our bill and package it to go?” 

Cas watches Dean carefully and decides he can push a little more. Directly into his ear he whispers, “When she returns, you are going to get up and head towards the elevators. I’ll be right behind you. When we get back to our room, I want you naked in my lap while you feed me the rest of our meal. Agreed?” 

Dean sucks in a shocked breath and meets his eye. With lust-blown eyes and a content smile, he sighs, “How are you so perfect?” 

Walking through a packed restaurant with a hard-on is tricky. There are so many people loitering in the lobby and bar area, that Dean has to brush against a few random pant legs. That unwanted contact thankfully quiets the desire bubbling in his blood enough to get him down to their room without incident. The second the door shuts and locks behind him, Dean turns and is slammed into the wall before he can process what’s happening. 

Cas grinds against him while he busies his hands with Dean’s shirt buttons. “Do you know how much of a turn on it is to see you fighting your desire for me? I almost crawled under that table to suck you off, just to give you some relief. Getting out of that restaurant was the longest five minutes of my life.” 

Dean moans into the demanding kiss Cas takes before impatiently pulling him to the bed with his shirt hanging off one shoulder. Cas sets the take out bag in the center of the bed and quickly divests himself of all of his clothes. Dean catches up with the program, straddling Cas and smoothly coming to rest with his thighs tight around his hips. They are both fully hard and twitching, but they linger, wanting to extend the yearning, stretch it out until it is taut and threatening to snap. 

Dean opens the container and they both admire the Dutch baby covered in brandied fruit, fragrant syrup, and whipped cream. Dean grabs the fork to cut a bite, but Cas takes it from him and tosses it across the room. Dean is perplexed until he meets Cas’s intense gaze. “Feed me, Dean.” 

Oh, that he can definitely do. This particular fetish doesn’t often rear its ugly head, but watching the delight on Cas’s face as he tried so many unique and delicious flavor combinations dragged it out from the depths of his subconscious and shoved it under a spotlight. 

He rips off a small bite, dragging it through the sticky sauce and cream before bringing it to Cas’s lips. He opens his mouth, but lets Dean guide the sweet morsel onto his tongue. He wraps his firm lips around Dean’s warm fingers, sucking the sweetness from them as he retreats. Dean’s arousal spikes at the wet suction, and again when he watches pleasure take over Cas’s face. 

“That is so good,” he laughs. “Wow. I thought dinner was amazing, but that is crazy delicious.” 

Dean takes a perfunctory bite and nods his head. “Awesome,” he agrees. 

He prepares another perfect bite and carefully feeds it to Cas. His breath hitches when his tongue caresses his fingertips, not missing a drop of the treat. Cas holds him by the hips, squeezing involuntarily whenever Dean shifts his hips forward. Dean brings a drunk blackberry to Cas’s lips and lets him bite into it. Juice bursts from its skin, and Dean leans down to lick the errant trickle back up to where it escaped Cas’s mouth. Cas chases the tart sweet nectar into Dean’s mouth, getting lost in the taste and letting his talented tongue spin their desire ever higher. 

When the dessert is decimated, their hunger for food sated, Cas pulls Dean in tighter, letting their hips lazily circle together while they slake their thirst for each other. 

When they separate for breath, Dean offers Cas an appreciative “thank you.” 

“For what?” 

Bashful Dean is a particular weakness for him. “For playing along with my feeding thing.” 

Cas grins. “Oh, I wasn’t just playing along. I loved it. By giving you what you wanted, I think we found a new kink of mine.” 

“Really?” 

“You thought I was that good of an actor?” 

Dean shrugs again, cheeks and neck pinking up. 

“Fuck, you are adorable,” Cas growls and grinds up into him. Dean gasps and joins in to stoke the flames again. Once they are panting and breathless, Cas pulls back to ask, “Can I ask you to indulge me in another kink of mine?” 

Dean nods loosely, but Cas demands words. “Yes, of course. What do you want, Cas?” 

“I’ve warned you about offering me carte blanche. You’re flirting with danger, sweetheart.” 

“My offer stands,” Dean breathes, anxious and itchy to keep going, to get Cas’s dick in him in some way. Romantic, it isn’t, but he’s touching the edge of desperation already. 

“I want to fuck you against those windows with nothing between us and the outside world but that crystal-clear glass. Still okay with it?” 

Dean blinks a few times, a thrill of adrenaline punching through him. He nods again, mind racing with images of being fucked where anyone in the port could watch. 

“Words, Dean.” Cas laps a flat tongue across a nipple and then circles it to gather it into his mouth. Hot suction pulls reason out of Dean’s brain even as he can feel the blood rising into a bruise. “Goddamn, Cas.” 

“Do you want me to stop?” he murmurs into his spit-wet skin. 

“Fuck, no.” 

“So do you agree?” 

“Yes,” he sighs and grinds his hips down as he continues sucking. Cas whispers approval around a wicked grin. With no urgency in his movements, Cas showers Dean in wet kisses as he slides him off his lap and tugs him off the bed. Pulling him close from behind, Cas walks him to the windows with hands roaming over his chest and down his sides. Planting Dean’s hands at shoulder height on the windows, Cas can hear his raspy breathing, can see it fogging the window in front of him. Cas kicks his feet wider and commands gently, “Look down, Dean. Do you see those people walking around?” 

Damn his fear of heights, but Dean has more important things kicking up the urgency of his fight or flight instinct right now. Dozens of people, not quite ants, but definitely small from this altitude, are wandering around the docks now. It’s night, and they are five floors up, but any one of them could look up by chance. He isn’t wearing a stitch of clothing, and Cas is pressing firmly against his back. 

“None of them have a clue that the most beautiful man in the world is naked and about to be fucked, just a few feet over their heads.” Cas steps back to let Dean feel the intense vulnerability for a moment before he drops to his knees and grabs Dean’s amazing ass. He jumps at the contact, but his eyes remain on the crowd. 

“You ready to give them a show?” 

Dean only makes a choked, airy sound in response. Cas separates his cheeks wide, using his thumbs to rub around the furled opening. When his tongue presses wet and hot against him with gentle motion, Dean goes up on his toes at the shock of the first touch. With a satisfied groan, he rolls his hips down into it, leaning his head against the glass. Cas licks firm and flat over him until he can feel relaxation shift down through his body. 

Cas breaches him with that talented tongue, and a breath of ‘yes’ slips past his lips. He loves feeling Cas’s mouth on him anywhere, but he is particularly skilled at this. It’s so fucking good that he wants to weep. Someday, he’s going to ask Cas to make him orgasm this way, but not tonight. Cas has plans for him, and this is just the most arousing way to prep him. Dean feels the strained tension coming from him, the excitement that coasts along his skin like electricity. He knows he’s in for a wild ride. 

Slipping a finger in beside his tongue, he lets it tug and coax Dean open. When he sinks it in all the way, pumping in and out, he reassures him, “This is the only one I would ever consider sharing you, sweetheart. They might see you, but I get to touch and taste. I get to hear those sweet sounds. I get to hear you beg me for more.” 

Cas guides his hips into arcing his back and he hums his approval. “Just gorgeous, Dean. 

Going back to work immediately, he plunges his tongue in deep, eating his ass like the finest delicacy. He lets spit build and spill over, soaking Dean inside and out, getting him sloppy. 

“Cas, you feel so fucking good.” Dean moans at the feel of his spit leaking out and sliding around his scrotum. 

His eyes slip closed as Cas begins tongue-fucking him; his hands guiding Dean back to impale himself. Huffed out curses accompany every thrust. Dean can already feel the tightening, tingling of his release on the horizon. 

Cas slips two fingers into Dean’s hole, keeping the rhythm as he demands, “Open your eyes. Look at them.” 

Dean obeys and sees a man’s face in the crowd turned up toward them. He’s leaning against a lamppost, obviously planning to be there a while. With a high-pitched whine, Dean barks out, “Oh fuck!” 

“Someone’s watching?” 

“Yeah. Um...yeah. Cas?” 

He can hear the panic and insecurity in Dean’s voice, so Cas gets back to his feet instantly. With his body pressed against the trembling man in front of him, he lends his comfort and support in the form of soothing touches down his arms and reverent kisses beneath his ear. “He can’t see your face, just like you can’t see his. You’re safe.” 

“I know,” he agrees shakily, turning his head to capture Cas’s lips in a teasing kiss. “He just surprised me.” 

“Do you want to continue?” he asks softly, ready to follow Dean’s wishes. 

Dean’s face lights up with mischief and he licks his lips. “Yeah, let’s make him desperate for us.” 

Cas huffs out a laugh and looks Dean up and down. “Not a problem. I’m sure he’s already halfway there.” 

Dean adjusts his stance, getting ready for the nudge of Cas’s fat cock. At the click of the lamp beside them, his eyes snap to Cas, who leers at him wolfishly. “Have to make sure we’re lit well, sweetheart.” 

The additional light steals some of Dean’s confidence, but then Cas’s fingers slip back inside him like they’re meant to be there. After a few smooth strokes, Dean is ready for more. “I’m good, Cas. I want to feel you stretch me wide.” 

“I’d like to open you up more, but you know I can’t deny you,” Cas kisses the base of his neck as he teases his tip against Dean’s wet, clenching hole. 

Every inch burns with such sweet fire that Dean tips his head back, gasping for breath. Cas's hips don’t stop their press until he is buried balls-deep in perfection. Using his right hand to keep Dean’s cheeks spread open, he eyes the connection between their bodies greedily. He pulls all the way out, just to see the beautiful gaping flutter of Dean’s empty hole. “I’ll never get tired of seeing this, Dean. Fuck, that’s gorgeous.” 

He does it a few more times, rubbing a thumb around the rim until Dean growls his frustration, “You keep leaving me wanting, and I might go find someone who’ll keep me full.” 

Dean knows Cas is highly possessive and a potentially jealous lover, so he’s well aware that his challenge will rile him up. He doesn’t expect the fierce storm of sensation that explodes around him. 

“The fuck you will,” he snarls in response. Cas is fully seated in him on the next breath, jarring his body forward. Cas pulls his right arm from the window and binds it behind Dean’s back with the grip of his left hand. The position forces his back to arch and his head to lean onto Cas’s shoulder, submitting to whatever Cas gives him. The punishing pace forces a whine of surrender from his lips. 

“I’m going to take you apart and leave you a fucked out wreck. I’m going to ruin you, Dean. You’ll never be satisfied with anyone else.” The promise panted into his ear ignites a deep ache in his chest. 

“Yes,” he prays. “Oh god, Cas. Please.” 

Cas grips Dean’s neglected cock, letting the snap of his hips push it into the tight tunnel of his fist. He’s going to force Dean over the edge, hard and quick, and then fuck him through the sensitivity. This beautiful man is going to be boneless and completely sated before he takes his own relief. 

“Unnhh. Cas, f-fuck.” 

“Yeah, baby? Getting close?” 

The sweat on his brow, his open-mouthed moans, and the tight squeeze of his muscles all tell Cas that Dean is seconds away. Agonized, speechless shouts rip from Dean’s mouth as his cock kicks, pulsing ribbons of white out onto his stomach and Cas’s hand. 

Cas groans at the sight and the feel of Dean clamping down around him. He slows the pace, grinding deep and dirty into the spasming channel. “Goddamn that feels so good,” he shivers. 

“Holy shit,” Dean laughs, rolling his head to lick and kiss Cas’s neck, the only spot he can reach in his current position. “You’ve already ruined me, Cas,” he admits. “I was a goner after the first time. Every time you fuck me just drives another nail in the coffin.” 

Cas hums and noses at his sweat-soaked hair. “I’m just getting started, sweetheart. You’d better brace yourself.” 

Cas releases his hand and Dean takes his advice. With both hands on the window again, he risks a look down. The man is still watching, but no one else has noticed. He flushes with embarrassment when he realizes that a complete stranger just saw him come. With the feeling comes an unexpected thrill. It’s so wrong, forbidden, and yet incredibly hot. 

He imagines how he would feel if he was out in public and happened upon a scene like this. He would be shocked by their daring, amused by the craziness of it, and ultimately filled with envy and lust. Admittedly, knowing that anyone, let alone a stranger, is witnessing Cas take him like this is an insanely powerful turn-on. 

Cas hits his prostate for the first time, and Dean groans while a shiver travels down his spine. After that, he hits it unerringly, so avoiding it up until then was obviously intentional. There’s no way that Dean should be getting hard again so quickly, but that’s what happens. Cas is a force of nature that defies all logic. Dominating Cas is blistering hot, but so is a Cas that is out of his mind with desire. That’s exactly where Dean wants to get him, and he knows just how to get what he wants. 

“Cas, baby, you’re so deep,” he moans. 

The only response is in his bruising fingertips, which makes Dean smile. 

“Fuck, I want you to come, Cas. I want to feel you explode inside me.” 

His breathing might be labored, but Cas is sharp. “I know what you’re doing, sweetheart. It won’t work.” 

“You should know better than to challenge me, baby. Now I won’t stop until I get what I want.” 

“You’ll get what I give you and nothing more,” Cas informs him. At the same time, his pace takes a brutal turn, stealing the snarky words of Dean’s reply before they can be voiced. 

Cas slips his thumb under Dean’s straining rim to join his thick cock, creating an even deeper stretch. The new sensation is echoed in the huffing shouts coming from Dean. When he accommodates the new girth, he starts babbling out praise, “Yes! So damned full! God, you’re fucking unreal, Cas. Fuck!” 

Cas can’t get enough of this view. Watching the plump, round muscles of Dean’s ass squeeze around his cock is mesmerizing. Hypnotized by the sight, he is taken by surprise when Dean speaks again. 

“Cas, I want a plug.” 

“Wait, what?” The words snap his attention to Dean’s reflection in the lit room. He vaguely registers that Dean is stripping his cock, already chasing his second release. 

“I want you to come inside me, and I want you to plug me up so not a drop of it slips out. I want to keep it, baby.” 

Cas whimpers at the thought, snared by the intense desire to do exactly what Dean is suggesting. He trembles with incendiary need, knowing that Dean is going to win this battle of wills if he keeps talking, speaking to Cas’s every dark desire. Dean’s voice is raw when he continues, “You can fuck me full of your come, Cas, until I can’t take another drop.” 

“Fuck, Dean!” he hisses in desperation. “I’m- Fuck, I’m coming.” 

Dean feels the warm liquid spread to coat his inner walls just as his cock answers with a thrumming, almost painful, pulsing of its own. Satisfaction floods him. The feeling of come sloshing inside him should probably be gross, but he revels in it. “Yeah, that’s it, Cas. Give it all to me.” 

Cas nips along his shoulder as he lets the waves of bliss wash over him. “You’re a menace, Winchester,” he teases with a particularly sharp bite. 

Dean sucks in a breath and shivers. “Mmm. Perhaps.” 

“Wave goodbye, baby.” 

Dean turns in his arms and takes his mouth in a long, wet kiss, full of fucked-out contentment. His spit-shiny lips split into a toothy grin. “Nah. He’s had enough of my attention. Even if he saw us, this wasn’t for him.” 

Cas’s pleased smile tells him it was the right thing to say. “What do you say we go take a hot shower and put on those obnoxiously fluffy robes?” 

“Sounds heavenly.” 

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed something in this chapter, or it made you feel inspired in some way, I'd love to hear about it. Keeping a consistent posting schedule is so much easier when you feel like your efforts are appreciated. 
> 
> Comments are coveted. 
> 
> Please and Thank you!
> 
> [Find me on Tumblr here](https://angelaland.tumblr.com)


	10. Blissfully Sated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas continue their weekend vacation / hideout from the creepy stalker. There are surprises, kinky discussions, and of course, lots of lust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, my lovelies...
> 
> This is a really long chapter. There's fluff and smut, and just a tiny bit of plot that snuck in.
> 
> I'm not going to be as available to write for the next 5-6 weeks, but then I'm off work for two months! In addition to finishing this story and my other WIP, Among the Ruins, I'm going to write two or three others that I have in the outline stage. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Cas watches the iridescent bubbles spread across Dean’s shoulders, colors swirling in the crisp LED lighting. Dean leans in to his touch like a cat, arching and then tipping his head forward to give him better access to his neck. The citrusy herbal soap smells expensive, filled with organic herbs and essential oils. The over-sized rain shower head drenches them with the perfect pressure, the perfect shower experience. It’s going to suck to give all of this up tomorrow and go back to the rancid little shithole he lives in. 

More than just missing the rich surroundings, he does not relish the thought of their little weekend getaway ending. Dean has work, his youth program, and a stalker to deal with. He isn’t going to be want or need Cas hanging around. He’s a busy, productive guy actively working towards fulfilling his dreams. Even if Dean wanted him around, how would Cas even explain why he has the ability to spend all week at Dean’s beck and call? Actually, it’s surprising that his job situation hasn’t come up. He’s just going to be thankful that it hasn’t. But, if he can’t be with Dean, how will he know that he is protected? He’s been wanting to bring this up for weeks, but it never seemed the right time. Now, it just comes blurting out. 

“Do you have a gun?” 

Dean tenses and turns until their eyes meet. “No. I don’t know the first thing about them, either.” 

Cas bites his lip in thought, which Dean finds adorable. “Would you consider carrying one?” 

With a sigh, Dean admits, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I don’t know how to shoot a gun.” 

“If I taught you, would you carry one?” 

Dean is thoughtful in his contemplation. He takes the facecloth from Cas and asks with a raised brow if Cas will allow it. He doesn’t decline, so Dean cleans and re-soaps the cloth, bringing it slowly to Cas’s chest. Once he has him lathered using slow, firm strokes, he turns them to put Cas under the delicate rain pouring down. 

“Are you good enough to teach me?” It isn’t a challenge. Dean is simply considering options. 

“Yes. I’ve carried a gun for years and I practice all the time.” 

“Do I need to buy one?” 

Cas clears his throat. How to phrase this? “If you want to stay on the right side of the law? Yes.” 

When Dean stays quiet, he tentatively suggests, “If that isn’t a concern?” 

“No. No, I should do this right.” 

Cas figured that would be his response, especially considering his family connections. He has to remain above reproach. His thoughts are interrupted by Dean. 

“Is this paranoia, or do you really feel it’s necessary?” 

“No one can be with you all the time, not even the police. I think it’s a good insurance policy as long as you aren’t reckless, and you aren’t.” 

“Okay.” 

Cas blinks. “Really?” 

“Yeah, I’ve thought about it for a couple of years. I just wasn’t interested enough to do the research and preparation, but if you know what kind of weapon I need and can teach me? I would be stupid not to do it, right?” 

Dean turns off the shower, and they dry off with large, fluffy towels. 

“Can we go tomorrow? I’d like to help you pick one out and then I can teach you to use it on the range.” 

Cas plucks one of the bathrobes from the hook and holds it open for Dean. As he’s sliding it over his muscled arms, he replies, “In the afternoon. I have plans for you in the morning.” 

Cas leers. “Really?” 

With a wink, Dean scolds, “Get your head out of the gutter, Cas.” 

He pads after Dean into the room, now filled with the soft, star-like glow from the surrounding buildings; creating their own unique universe of constellations. “To be fair, the ‘gutter’ is a safe assumption when it comes to how we spend our time together.” 

Dean gives him a boyish grin, “You’re not wrong, but I’m taking you somewhere special.” 

He frowns. “Where?” 

“It’s a surprise. Now come to bed. I’m exhausted from all of this life-altering sex.” 

Cas huffs and ties the belt on his robe. He’s experiencing a baffling mix of sensations. He’s blissfully sated, warm from the shower, and wearing something soft enough to feel like angel kisses. He’s also excessively pleased by the compliment, yet he’s annoyed that Dean is keeping him in the dark. When he slides under the covers, he decides that he can’t be bothered with anything but contentment. 

 

***** 

 

Dean is huddled by the door of their hotel room, trying to carry on the conversation with his dad without waking Cas. He wouldn’t have taken the call this early, but he pointedly ignored a call from him yesterday, and he knows his dad well enough to know that it won’t be tolerated a second time. 

“Why don’t you just come out here until we catch the bastard? You know you’ll be safe here.” 

“Dad, I have work.” 

“You’re being hunted by a psychopath, and your boss won’t let you take a few measly days off? That’s preposterous!” 

Dean holds the phone away from his ear until the bluster dies down. “You’re not in court, you know. You don’t need to persuade me to stay safe.” 

“Could’ve fooled me.” 

Dean ignores the grumbling and continues, “I want to work because otherwise I’ll go crazy. I’m taking precautions.” 

“Like what?” 

“I’m at a hotel, and I’m not following any of my routine. I’m safe.” 

“Where?” 

“Wouldn’t it be safer if no one knows?” 

“Dean.” The exasperation in his voice speaks volumes. Dean’s never been able to resist getting under his old man’s skin. 

“I’m at the Envoy.” 

“I don’t like the idea of you hiding out by yourself.” 

“I’m not.” 

“Wait. What?” 

Dean clears his throat roughly. “I’m-I’m not here alone.” 

Silence drags out uncomfortably long. “Who are you with, Dean?” 

“A friend is staying with me.” 

“And the friend’s name is?” 

Shit. Dean can hear the accusations in his tone. He’d like to say that his dad’s jumping to the wrong conclusions, but he’s really not. He’s killing two birds with one stone. He needs to hideout and stay off Michael’s radar, but it’s become a weekend getaway with his...boyfriend? Dad’s going to blow a gasket, so he’d best prepare. 

“Cas.” 

“Cas?” 

“Yes, he’s the one who’s been helping me.” 

More silence. “And just how has this Cas been helping you, Dean?” 

He’s never heard the word ‘helping’ sound so filthy. Dean relays the story of Cas’s assistance, leaving out anything not PG or better, obviously. 

“Don’t you think it’s fishy that he’s always in the right place at the right time?” 

“I did, but I have proof that he has nothing to do with this. He’s protected me from this Michael asshole several times. I’ll explain more tomorrow.” 

John clears his throat. Here it comes. “Are you involved with this guy?” 

“Yes.” 

“Dean, why do you-” 

“Dad, stop.” He tries to throttle the phone to vent some of his aggravation and then explains, “We were involved before this started. I wouldn’t have even seen it coming if it wasn’t for his observations and warnings. I know you’re worried about me, but I assure you that I’m safer with Cas than anywhere else.” 

John mutters under his breath about Dean’s track record with horrible relationships. “Dad, he’s a good guy. I trust him, and you need to trust me.” 

The best he’s going to get for now is a begrudging, “Fine, but I don’t like it.” 

“You don’t have to like it. I’m an adult. You just have to accept it and butt out.” 

“You never seem to want me to ‘butt out’ when you need something from me.” 

“That’s the way it goes. You should have read the kid contract a little closer.” 

John snorts out a laugh and says with affection, “I’ll see you tomorrow, son.” 

“Bye, dad.” 

 

***** 

 

Dean pads over to the end table to plug in his phone and sees that Cas is awake. “Hey. I’m sorry if I woke you. I was trying to be quiet.” 

Cas looks vulnerable and sweet buried in the fussy layers of down duvets and silk sheets. Guileless eyes beg for truth when he asks, “Did you mean what you said?” 

“When?” 

“On the phone with your dad. About-about me?” 

Dean crawls onto the bed and plants a kiss on his forehead. “Yeah, Cas. Every word.” 

Affection and warmth radiate from him. The moment is weighty and poignant, and it makes Dean squirm. As usual, he deflects rather than deal with the depth of the terrifying emotions Cas stirs in him. 

“Since you’re up, let’s go down for brunch. The menu looks killer.” 

Cas sits up, propped on one elbow, his lip curled in disgust. “Brunch?” 

“Yes, brunch.” 

“Dean, do I look like I’ve ever gone somewhere for brunch?” 

“Probably not, but that’s what makes it fun. It’s an adventure.” 

“Sounds like a bite in the ass.” 

Dean picks up the menu and recites, “Salted Chocolate Pancakes, with dark chocolate and strawberries; Lobster Benedict, with butter poached Maine lobster and Hollandaise; Bourbon Baked French Toast, with sweetened ricotta, blackberries and local honey; Breta Breakfast Sandwich, with bacon jam-” 

“Brunch sounds perfect,” Cas interrupts, salivating and already heading towards his bag to find clothes. 

 

***** 

 

Dean notices that Cas leaves his piercings out, his eyes unlined, and the leather jacket off when they head downstairs. Dean doesn’t mention it because he’s aware that Cas must already be feeling vulnerable without them. He just wishes that he didn’t feel like he needed to alter his appearance to feel accepted in this environment. 

Cas almost left his backpack in the room too, but Dean managed to convince him to bring it for storage purposes, to which Cas grumbled about being expected to be a pack mule. In reality, Dean knows that Cas’s sketch book is in there, and he’ll want it where they’re going. 

Over rich coffee and decadent food, they chat while Cas tries to trick him into giving away their destination. He’s subtle, but Dean’s not going to ruin his surprise. 

“It might rain today. Should we get umbrellas from the concierge?” Cas observes. 

“Nice try.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m not going to give away whether we’re going somewhere indoors or outdoors. Give up, Cas. Surprises are fun.” 

“Not in my experience.” 

Dean squints at him. “Has anyone ever told you you’re like an eighty year old man in a super-hot package?” 

Cas looked mortified. “No. No one has ever said anything that creepy to me.” 

Dean scoffs around his coffee mug. “I doubt that’s true.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Dean grins. “I’ll bet you could name ten things, off the top of your head, that Gabe has said to you that are creepier than that.” 

Cas tilts his head, eyes looking up. After about 30 seconds, he concedes. “Okay. You got me there.” 

A comfortable silence settles while they finish their meal, until Dean decides to broach a topic that’s been weighing on him. Looking around, he realizes that despite being in public, they are at the back of the restaurant, far from other customers. He leans in close and keeps his voice pitched low. “Hey, are you okay with us talking about some private things here?” 

“That’s not terrifying at all,” Cas teases. 

“I’m serious.” 

Cas sets his fork down. “Fine. What did you want to talk about?” 

Dean bites his lip, looking Cas over before he begins. “We’ve only been seeing each other for a little while, and we’ve been getting into some pretty kinky shit pretty fast.” 

Cas furrows his brow, concern in his features. “Are you uncomfortable with what we’ve been-” 

“No! No, not at all. I just- I just think we might have overlooked some fundamentals because it just happened so organically. You know?” 

Cas nods carefully. “Agreed. So, what did you want to correct?” 

Dean sighs. “I think we need to discuss some things, that’s all.” 

“Like negotiation?” 

Dean wrinkles his nose. “I’m not looking for a contract or anything, just a few guidelines.” 

“Okay, I think that’s a good idea, actually.” Cas is proud of Dean for being proactive about this, since forward thinking tends to run counter to his MO. Well, they should have talked before they had sex of any kind, but their first time together wasn’t exactly conventional. 

“I mentioned the other day that I’m up for most things, and I don’t have a problem telling you if I don’t like something. My only hard limits are water sports, scat play, and any kind of age or puppy play. I’m not a huge fan of humiliation, either.” 

Cas hums. “I noticed.” 

Dean smirks at the memory. He knows now that Cas intentionally tried to get a rise out of him by calling him a fuck toy, but at the time, it had him seeing red. “So, limits for you?” 

“I’m opposed to the same things you are, but I have a couple others. I’m not a body part fetishist. I don’t get turned on by armpits or feet.” 

“Same. Although, there are parts of you I’d like to spend some time worshiping.” Dean can’t help but lick his lips at the thought of getting unlimited access to the luscious tattooed skin under Cas’s shirt. 

Eyes sliding half-mast, Cas smiles. He doesn’t want this conversation to go off the rails before he says what he needs to say, so he murmurs, “We’ll come back to that, sweetheart.” 

He clears his throat, “I have quite an aversion to hospitals, so anything in that area...” 

Dean teases, “Aww. Cas, are you saying that I’m not going to get you to play doctor with me?” 

With a leveling glare, Cas replies, “Not if you want me to give you an enema while we role play, no.” 

He can’t help but laugh at the quick retreat from flirting he sees on Dean’s face. “Dude! I’m still eating.” 

Cas ignores the green tinge to Dean’s face, fidgeting with his thumbnail while he tries to find the right approach to continue. “I- I can’t let you tie me up. It’s part of the touch thing. I can’t be helpless like that.” 

“So, nothing that makes you vulnerable?” Cas appreciates the way Dean is trying to understand, trying to find the edges of what Cas will be okay with. 

“I wouldn’t go that far, just...” Cas looks away. “Shit. This is difficult because, honestly, I don’t want to have this particular limit. I just do.” 

Dean waits until he looks up and asks with absolute sincerity, “Is it something you want to work on?” 

Cas swallows hard. His mouth is suddenly Sahara dry. “Yes, but it scares the shit out of me.” 

“Understood. That’s the beauty of kink, in my opinion.” 

At the confused tilt of Cas’s head, he explains, “Okay, I could have these weird desires, like hand feeding and exhibitionism, and never do anything about them so that I don’t let anyone see into my warped little mind, or... I can choose to let someone in and we can explore those things together without fear of judgement. It can be a great outlet to work through limits and fears.” 

Dean takes a long sip of his coffee, adding, “I’m not going to push. I promise you that I won’t ever do anything that you don’t give me explicit permission to do. But, if there’s ever something that you want to try, I’m here. I’m willing.” 

Cas has never heard a more honest understanding of playing with kink. “You’re pretty amazing, Dean Winchester.” 

“You’re not so bad yourself, Novak.” 

Cas pulls a disgusted face. “What was that for?” 

“I’ve never been a fan of my last name. Apparently, it was my mother’s name, but I just never felt any connection with it.” 

“So change it.” 

Cas scowls. “Why didn’t I think of that?” 

“Because I’m fucking brilliant, that’s why.” Dean signs the check to their room and hops up from his chair. “Finish your coffee. I want to hit the road.” 

“So, are we done with the fundamentals, then?” 

Dean considers for a moment and smiles. “For now. There are some specifics I’d like to talk about tonight, but they’ll keep.” With that, he walks away. 

“Fuck. You’re killing me, Dean.” 

 

***** 

 

Walking into the Museum of Fine Art might as well be a portal to another world. The entry foyer soars above them, domed with gilded frescos and ornate framing. Climbing the broadest marble staircase he’s ever seen; they emerge on the main floor to find a mind-boggling number of galleries to choose from. Cas’s wide eyes give away his excitement even through his attempt to affect nonchalance. 

Dean leans in with a content smile. “Where to first?” 

Cas pores over the map, blissfully unaware of how much of his giddiness is bleeding through as he identifies one gallery after another that he is dying to visit. Dean’s chest aches at how easy it is to make Cas so happy. One small gesture, nothing more than taking an interest in him and what he enjoys, and he’s ecstatic. Dean makes a mental note to find anything and everything that will cause his face to light up like this. 

Even with some of the world’s most priceless art hanging on the walls around him, he’d rather look at Cas. In the Italian Renaissance gallery, an artist is doing a painting demonstration, which they’ve been watching for several minutes. Cas is enthralled by it, asking questions whenever she does something that she doesn’t explain. 

“You should take a studio class here. I think you’d really enjoy it,” she encourages. 

“What’s that?” Dean asks when Cas doesn’t. 

“Oh, the museum offers different art classes here. They are all taught by amazing artists, but I can particularly recommend the painting courses. This is where I learned.” 

Cas’s eyes go wide with that information. “So, you’re a new painter?” 

“Relatively. I took my first class here about three years ago.” 

Dean watches his gears turning. This is something that Cas wants. He’s practically salivating. Dean just has to figure out how to make it happen without him balking at the price tag. 

“He’s a brilliant artist,” Dean interjects, and then says to Cas, “You should look into it. You said you never had the opportunity to mess around with paint before. This would be perfect.” 

Cas’s face goes stony, his only reply to shrug and thank the artist before moving on. 

Dean rolls his eyes and catches up with his stubborn boyfriend. “You know, it’s okay to want things and for people to know that you do.” 

He gets an eyeroll for his trouble, but he doesn’t push the issue. Cas is a thorny bastard, and Dean hasn’t known him long enough to be entitled to prune away the prickly parts. He gives Cas his space and contents himself to trail behind in the light crowd. Cas comes to an abrupt halt in the entry to one of the American galleries, which Dean watches affectionately. It’s like he has to remain motionless to absorb all of the overwhelming beauty in one room. The deep red walls contrast with the brilliant white statues, making them almost glow. 

When Cas circles one of the statues and bounces his gaze between it and the wall, intent and focused, Dean comes closer. Cas suddenly laughs with delight. Without looking at him, Cas knows he’s there. 

“Dean, look. Come over here.” Cas pulls him so he’s facing the entry of the gallery. “Now, turn around and look right there.” 

Dean looks back at a mirror on the wall. He thinks the mirror is hung in an odd place, but what does he know about art? 

“Look again,” Cas beckons, pointing him towards the room again, and then back at the mirror. Suddenly, it becomes clear. The mirror isn’t a mirror. It’s a painting of the room, meant to reflect like a mirror. 

“Oh, shit!” Dean reacts and grins at Cas. “It totally fooled me. I only realized it was a painting when I didn’t see that little girl behind me.” 

“This is so unbelievably cool,” Cas seconds. “Talk about art imitating life.” 

After admiring it for a few more minutes, taking in the astounding level of detail, Cas reaches into his backpack. His hand is on his sketch book before he re-thinks it. Glancing at Dean and away, he tries to zip it back up. Dean stops him with a gentle hand. 

“Cas, we’re in no hurry. Sit. Sketch. Take it all in. That’s why we’re here.” 

He sighs, “Dean, I don’t want you to sit around and wait for me to draw. I can come another time and do that.” 

“No, I insist. I’ll go get information on the painting class while you work.” 

Cas looks like he wants to argue, but not enough to actually do it. Dean brushes a quick kiss to his temple and leaves. 

Down in the lobby, Dean makes a beeline for the information desk. The docent happily gives him the schedule of classes with a pat on his arm. “It’s so good to see young kids interested in the arts. It gives me hope that the world isn’t completely going to hell in a hand basket.” 

Dean puts on his most charming smile. “It isn’t for me, I’m sad to say. I couldn’t paint the broad side of a barn. It’s for my boyfriend.” 

She straightens a bit and then lets out a laugh like popcorn. Leaning in conspiratorially, she confesses, “Keep the artistic ones, dear. They’re the most passionate.” 

The eye waggle she gives him is ridiculous and has him belly laughing. 

“If you have a museum membership, you can get a good discount on the classes, too.” 

 

By the time he finds Cas in a different gallery, he has a new MFA membership card in his pocket and a bounce to his step. Cas may fuss at him for buying it, but it’s done and Dean can’t return it. Cas will just have to deal with having unlimited access to the museum. 

Cas is sitting cross-legged on a long bench, furiously sketching the painting in front of him. The artist created such vivid light that it could almost be a photograph. 

“Who is that?” Dean asks when he sits down. 

“Maxfield Parrish. Isn’t it spectacular?” 

Dean takes a long moment to soak it in. “Yeah, you can feel an... excitement from her.” 

Cas smiles softly. “It’s called Ecstasy.” 

“Hmm. My favorite kind of excitement.” 

Cas chuckles. “You’re absurd, Dean.” 

Bumping into his shoulder, he admits, “I’m also hungry. Want to get out of here and grab lunch on the way to the gun range?” 

Cas looks at him, disappointment in his eyes. “We haven’t seen even half of the museum yet.” 

“You can come back any time you want,” Dean smiles and sets the membership card on his sketchbook. Wisely, he gets up and leaves the room before Cas can question him. 

 

***** 

 

Dean looks good with a gun in his hand, like it belongs there, like it should have always been there. Cas shouldn’t be feeling this tight, squirmy sensation in his belly just from seeing the flash of metal in his boyfriend’s palm. But even without any experience with weapons whatsoever, Dean radiates calm power and deadly intent. To Cas, the image in front of him creates a percolating lust that licks up his spine. He adjusts himself surreptitiously and then turns back to where the clerk is trying to upsell Dean into a much more expensive gun than he needs. He rolls his eyes and points to the beautiful silver, gray, and rosewood Kimber. 

“That's the one, Dean.” 

The pushy clerk has obviously decided that Cas is as gullible as he assumes Dean to be. “Well, I don’t know about that. The features on this one-” 

“-are completely aesthetic and it’s too heavy to conceal carry,” Cas interrupts. 

The clerk gives him a sour look in challenge, “You telling me you know more about guns than I do, son?” 

Cas picks up the bronze and black Colt that Dean had just set back on the counter. Without taking his eyes from the clerk, he ejects the clip and field strips it in less than twenty seconds. With a feral grin, he leans forward, “Now, are you going to give me the gun I asked for?” 

His shifty eyes slide away from Cas, but he slaps the requested gun into Dean’s hand before walking away. Dean chuckles. “Fucking hell, you are an intimidating son of a bitch, Cas.” 

After a quick safety lesson, which Dean strains to listen to through the protective muffs over the distraction of bullets being fired around them, Cas loads the gun and demonstrates. Dean can’t help the interested twitch of his cock when Cas fires the first shot. Damn. It was insanely hot to see him handle the weapon in the store with such graceful confidence. Watching him wield the barely restrained power of the gun with such ease? Dean can feel his knees go wobbly, ready to drop his weight to the ground. 

Cas puts the safety back on and sets the gun on the counter in front of them while he reels the target back in. The typical adrenaline high of firing a weapon tingles along his nerves, and he can’t help but feel light with energy. When he turns to Dean, the energy suddenly has weight. He knew that Dean would probably like shooting a gun, but the ‘come fuck me’ look he’s getting from him right now makes Cas shiver with want. His dick’s Pavlovian response to Dean should be laughable, but instead it just feels delicious. 

“Damn, sweetheart. You look like you’re going to eat me alive,” Cas teases while invading his space and hooking his hands on his hips. 

“Oh, I want to,” Dean admits while licking his lips. Cas leans in to taste, hoping for just a hint of the nectar that drugs him with its sweetness. 

Their tongues touch, dance with lazy intention. Dean’s hum ignites him, and he pulls him closer by cupping the back of his head. Remembering where they are, Cas pulls back too soon and takes a cleansing breath. “I can’t wait to see how hot you get once you actually pull the trigger.” 

“This might be a really short trip to the gun range.” 

With a last lingering look, Cas shakes his head, “You’re fucking unreal.” 

He lets Dean do every step that he already modeled: load the clip, launch the target, release the safety, pull the trigger. When the first bullet fires, awe-filled eyes caress the gun. “Shit, that was so much stronger than I expected, even after I watched you shoot.” 

“That little gun has some kick,” Cas agrees. He moves to Dean’s side and helps adjust his grip before he lets him fire again. On the third round, Cas moves directly behind Dean, lining their hips up. Sliding his hand along Dean’s arm, he forces him to hold it in the correct position. “That’s better, now lean forward a little.” 

Dean fires again, but he’s still leaning too far back. It isn’t a huge problem, but it’s much easier to get his technique correct now and not let him learn bad habits. Cas’s left hand slides from his hip to his belly and pushes in with splayed fingers. It’s fucking perfect how Dean goes pliant under his touch, and Cas can’t help but mold himself to every inch of his broad, muscled back. 

Dean’s breath stutters out on an exhale, and he fires a little too jerkily. 

“Smooth, baby. Just squeeze,” Cas reminds by murmuring near his ear. He’s never resented ear muffs before, but that’s how desperate he is for this man in his arms. This time, Dean’s aim is true. Cas can feel the thunderclap vibrations rippling through Dean’s body and into his. His cock is filling rapidly now, and he teases the skin at the nape of Dean’s neck with his nose. 

On the seventh, and final, round, Dean sways his hips back into a dirty grind against him before he squeezes. It’s Cas’s turn to suck in a breath. Once Dean puts the gun down, he turns, eyes burning. “I’m going to go pay for this gun, then we’re going to go back to the hotel where I can rip away every fucking stitch of clothing from your body, and I’m not letting you out of that bed until sometime tomorrow. Deal?” 

“It’s like you read my mind, gorgeous.” 

 

***** 

 

“Holy shit, Dean. I don’t think I’ve come that fast since I was in middle school,” Cas wheezes as he looks down at his body to see the damage. His shirt is dangling from his waist by the bottom button, one sock still on. They never made it to the bed. Instead, they consumed each other where they collapsed; Cas unable to keep Dean against the wall when his hips started thrusting forward. It was lightning fast, all shaking hands and trembling breath; desperation not allowing for any grace. 

Dean groans as he rolls over. “Your elbow bruised my rib. Fuck. That hurt.” 

“I think I have rug burn on my ass.” 

They get caught in each other’s eyes and burst out laughing. “We are pathetic,” Dean scolds without heat. 

“So much for spending the rest of the day in bed,” Cas teases him, stretching over to plant a kiss on Dean’s swollen lips. 

Dean quirks an amused brow at him. “Oh, I’m sorry. What gave you the idea that our plans had in any way changed?” 

Cas pops him playfully on the ass as he gets up to retrieve a water bottle from the mini fridge. He misses the needful moan Dean stifles and the strained clench of his ass cheeks. Dean isn’t going to be able to avoid this desire for much longer. Already, every time Cas so much as grazes his ass, he bucks back into the contact; his brain screaming for a sharp slap. He wants it. God, how he wants it. The phantom sting of a hand taunts him with memories of intense pleasure and pain. 

Once he has calmed enough not to give himself away, he retreats into the bathroom. In the mirror, he gives himself a pep talk. ‘You have to discuss this first. This isn’t something you can spring on him in the middle of sex. Pull up your panties and be an adult about what you want.’ Okay, pep talk might be an optimistic title. 

He finds Cas spread out, flopped on his belly reading the room service menu. 

“You hungry already?” 

Cas looks up with what could only be described as a pout, but Dean can’t quite believe he’s seeing it on his face. “It’s already six something. It’s not that early.” 

Dean coos at him as he crawls onto the bed. “Aww. I’m sorry, pookie. I didn’t mean to upset you. Of course you can eat whenever you want.” 

Cas rolls his eyes and mutters about him being a patronizing asshole. “Besides, I need to build up my energy level for whatever you have planned for later.” 

A little spike of panic hits. “What makes you think I have something planned?” 

Cas raises a brow knowingly. “You hinted at it this morning, remember?” 

Dean fidgets and makes a noncommittal sound. This is the perfect opportunity to bring it up. Cas practically served it up on a silver platter, but he can’t make the words come out. Damn it. 

Looking at the menu over Cas’s shoulder, he gets absorbed in the drool-worthy options, trying to forget his cowardice. After they place their order, Dean flips on the TV, asking Cas if he wants to watch a movie. 

“I can’t remember the last time I watched a movie,” he replies. “Or what it was.” 

He busies himself with propping up the pillows and turning the bed into a fluffy nest. Dean is scrolling through the guide, looking for the perfect distraction. “What kind of movies do you like?” 

“I don’t know. I’m not a fan of romantic comedies or sappy dramas. Other than that, I’m game.” 

“Have you seen Deadpool?” 

“The superhero thing?” 

Dean gives him a repulsed look. 

“What? Isn’t it?” 

“Of a sorts, I guess. We’re watching it. It’s dark and hilarious. You’ll love it.” 

Dean is absolutely right. He’s never been a huge superhero fan, but this one is incredible. He’s probably the only little boy in America that didn’t grow up loving comic books, but it never rang true for him. Everyone in those stories ended up with super powers, and it sucked to give himself hope that his misery would be changed someday. Best he stick to reality. 

After huge juicy burgers that they ate on the bed while they watched the movie, Dean is quiet. He gathers up their debris from dinner and sets it outside in the hall. Cas tracks his progress, trying to figure out what’s bothering him. Finally, he returns to sit on the edge of the bed. Meeting Cas’s eye, he admits, “I’m going to be really sad to leave this hotel tomorrow. This weekend has been...perfect.” 

“Yeah, me, too,” Cas sighs. “I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun.” 

Dean gives him a sad smile. “I haven’t felt worried or stressed for almost three days, and I know that the coming week is going to be brutal.” 

Cas pulls his knees up to his chin. “Do you want me to go with you to your dad’s office?” 

“Nah. I’ll drop you off at home and head directly there. It’s going to be a long, boring day of talking and legal bullshit, I’m sure. Plus, I don’t want this meeting to be the first time you two meet. Casts a shadow I don’t want there.” 

Cas feels a zing of surprise that Dean even plans on him ever meeting his father. He keeps forgetting that that’s the kind of thing that boyfriends do. They meet families, they spend time with them. For the first time in years, Cas regrets not having a family, because he would like to share them with Dean. 

“The weekend might be coming to an end, but I hope you know that I’m not going anywhere,” Cas says quietly. 

“Neither am I, Cas. As far as I’m concerned, this is just the beginning.” They meet in the middle of the bed, delicate kisses sealing the promise. 

“Tell me what else is troubling you.” 

Dean blushes a deep red. Cas can’t help the rush of desire that floods him at the sight. Whatever his golden boy has rattling around in his brain, it must be good to receive that kind of instant reaction. 

It takes Dean a minute to force the words out. “There’s a kink I want to play around with, but it has to be something that we’re both into because it isn’t something that I can really do for myself.” 

“Okay. What is it, sweetheart?” 

“Impact play. Pain.” Dean is practically shaking. Why is he so nervous about this? He’s joked around about it more than once. Cas isn’t going to be surprised by the admission. Perhaps it’s because he doesn’t know what Cas’s reaction will be. He wants it too much and will be too disappointed if it isn’t a mutual need. 

Cas lifts Dean’s chin to provide intentional eye contact. “It isn’t something I have a lot of experience with.” 

At the crestfallen look overtaking Dean’s face, he hurriedly completes his thought. “But I’m willing, Dean. I’m open to it if you don’t mind teaching me.” 

Dean looks hopefully at him. The twisting desire blossoming inside him causes goosebumps to raise along his arms. Cas feels them under his hand as he rubs his thumb across his skin. “You really want this, don’t you, baby?” 

“You have no idea, Cas.” He takes in a jittery breath, lamenting, “It’s been so long.” 

Cas slides back to sit upright against the headboard, calling Dean to him. Perched in his lap, Dean is lust-drunk, already clenching and squeezing muscles to hold back how much he wants to writhe against Cas’s body. 

“Christ, Dean,” Cas breathes, eyes gleaming and wide. “Walk me through this. What is it that’s getting you this fucking turned on?” 

“Knowing you’ll try this? Fuck. The anticipation is killing me.” 

His hands run up Dean’s sides, feeling his skin already dewy with sweat just at the thought of getting what he wants. Holy shit. Dean’s been responsive before, but this is fucking incredible. Cas will gladly do whatever he wants to keep getting this kind of response. “How can I get you there? Tell me what to do.” 

“There are lots of options, like pulling my hair and biting.” 

“Which are lovely and we will definitely do more of that, but that’s not what’s got you so needy, is it?” 

Dean shakes his head. “Spanking. Hard spanking until it turns my ass a deep, hot red.” 

“Yeah, for punishment?” 

Dean bites his lip. “It’s never a punishment to me. I like it too much.” 

Cas considers his answer and slides a hand over Dean’s ass. He rubs his gorgeous, round cheek firmly. “Hmm. What about using something other than a hand?” 

Dean whimpers at the thought, and Cas grins. “Like a brush, or a belt?” 

“Yes,” is the answer pulled from Dean’s lips, jaw slack with a plea. “Oh god, Cas. Please.” 

“Of course, baby,” Cas murmurs, pulling Dean down to suck on his plush bottom lip before kissing him languidly. He’s building the intensity for Dean, making him wait. 

“What do you like about it? Explain it to me.” 

“When pain mixes with pleasure, it’s so fucking intense. The feelings and my reactions get all confused, and the pain becomes this euphoric crazy pleasure that drags me under. It’s amazing.” 

“Sounds incredible. Would you want me to do that for you now?” 

Dean gives him a dirty little grind. “You know I do, you fucking tease. Do you want me to beg?” 

Cas grinds back, eyes dark and commanding. “Oh, I have no doubt that you’ll be begging, Dean. Soon, I’ll have you begging and crying for me. Right now, though, I want you bent over this bed, chest flat, and your legs spread wide.” 

Dean scrambles to comply with Cas’s request. Hell, it wasn’t a request. He can’t really call it anything but an order. Dean’s never been very submissive, despite his love of pain. He’s too mouthy. Cas takes the reins so beautifully, though. It’s giving him ideas to add to their ever-expanding exploration. 

At that moment, their bottle of lube, Dean’s hairbrush, and Cas’s black belt hit the bed one by one, right in Dean’s line of sight. Fuck. Seeing the implements of pain make everything more real, more imminent. Dean sighs and dips his back into a lower arch, trying to tempt Cas to get started. 

Silence drags out, even as he can feel the static certainty that Cas is hovering inches from him. 

“What is the most you’ve taken?” he asks as his hands come down to caress Dean’s ass like the gift that it is. His fingers splay and dig in, rub and squeeze. Dean pushes into the touch and answers. 

“30.” 

“Hmm. Ever taken a belt?” 

Dean’s toes are already curling. “No. Never.” 

Cas runs a finger down the crease, rubbing over the furled knot. “After I blister this ass, I’m fucking it. Understood?” 

“Yes, yes. Please, Cas. That’s the best part. I want you to fuck me hard.” 

“I’m not going to take it easy on you because it will hurt. You get that, right?” 

“Fuck, I hope not,” Dean agrees. Cas chuckles at his answer. Dean’s earlier shyness has long since dissipated. This is the Dean that challenges him, demands his best. 

Cas looks around him to meet his eye. 

“We’re using stoplights. Non-negotiable. If you don’t answer me immediately, I’ll stop.” 

Dean can hear the line in the sand that Cas has just drawn. “Okay, Cas. I’ll be honest with my limits, but check in if you need to.” 

With that, Cas gives him a harsh slap on the ass. The sound of it echoes in the large room. Dean goes up on his toes in surprise; a gasped inhale turns into a moaned exhale. 

Before his eyes, like the loveliest magic trick, a warm, pink echo of Cas’s hand develops across the expanse of Dean’s right cheek. 

“Harder?” 

“Mmm. Yes, I can take it harder.” 

Cas leaves an open-mouthed kiss on the pink hand print, getting the skin nice and wet to intensify the sting of the next blow. Cas grins at the even louder crack that he gets the second time. 

On the third smack, he finally gets a hiss that bleeds into a guttural groan out of Dean. ‘There, that’s about the right intensity,’ he purrs to himself with a satisfied smile. 

“Alright, baby. Let’s begin.” Cas smirks at the huff of breath Dean replies with. 

“O-ok.” 

Cas switches to the left side for the first official slap. Dean hears the thunderclap as the nerve endings explode along his skin. “Unngh. Perfect, Cas.” 

Cas rubs away the sting, helping it settle into his shocked flesh. “Count them, Dean.” 

“One.” He doesn’t get a full breath before the next blow lands, just as painful, just as perfect. His jaw clenches after the fifth smack, and sweat dots his brow by the tenth. 

Cas takes a short break to examine his handiwork, loving how his hand tingles from the repeated blows. He dots the heated, welted skin with light, feathery kisses that make Dean squirm. “This is a beautiful shade of pink, Dean. Deep and rich.” 

Dean hums his approval, the thrum of the abused flesh throbbing in time with his heart beat. 

Cas gives him a wicked grin that he can’t see. He bites into the globe of Dean’s cheek like an apple, earning a shouted obscenity. “But I think we can do better,” he chuckles. “Ready to try the brush?” 

“Y-yeah. Let’s- yeah.” 

Cas rubs his hand firmly over his canvas before he hits it with the back of the brush. The sound is duller, but he can tell from Dean’s reaction that it feels just as intense. “You like that, sweetheart?” 

Dean moans long and low. “Yeesss.” 

On the fifteenth smack, Cas checks in with him. “Color, Dean?” 

“Neon fucking green, Cas.” 

Bratty and mouthy. That tells Cas all he needs to know about Dean’s level of enthusiasm. 

“What would make it even better, baby?” 

“Hit me right over my hole, Cas.” 

The thought makes Cas’s ass cheeks clench in sympathy. He’s going to give him what he asks for, no matter how much he wouldn’t want it himself. He forces Dean forward more, spreading him wider before he brings the brush down right over that soft pink flesh. 

Dean’s body stiffens in reaction, but he huffs out hard breaths of praise, “F-f-fuck. Uhnnn. S-so good.” 

Cas makes him stand after the twentieth blow to check in. Dean’s cock is leaking, but he can stand, even if he trembles a bit. Cas lets Dean give him grateful and lust-fueled kisses to extend the break. Cas is surprised that he needs it, too. He’s doing this for Dean, because his gorgeous boyfriend is overcome with the need for pain. He finds that he’s more affected by it than he would have believed. He’s hard and aching, and he can’t wait to fuck into that blistering heat. 

Gently laying Dean back onto the bed, he makes a few practice swings with the belt against his forearm before he attempts to use it on Dean. He gets a punched out shout on the first blow, and Dean whimpers his praises. “Fuck, Cas. That’s delicious.” 

By the fifth strike with the belt, long welts are raising on his red ass. When he runs fingertips over them, Dean barks out a pained sound. When he makes Dean check in this time, he’s slurring. 

After two more, he asks his color, and Dean is unresponsive. 

“Dean?” Silence. 

Cas gets in his face and sees glassy, unfocused eyes staring through him. He lightly taps his cheek, and Dean comes back to him. 

“Are you okay?” 

A blissful smile answers. “Good. ‘M good. Light” 

“We should stop.” 

“No, no, no,” Dean whimpers. “More. Please, more.” 

“Five. No more.” Dean nods his agreement. 

“You’re still okay with me fucking you?” 

“Always.” 

On the last five smacks, he checks in with Dean between each one. His responses are slower to come; but he insists on green, even around a tongue that’s gone thick and uncoordinated. 

Cas sets the belt aside, taking a minute to enjoy the fruits of his labor. Dean is a boneless puddle, and Cas can’t believe the heat radiating from his ass. He preps him while Dean floats in the ether. 

Cas slides home carefully, Dean coming back to life with the first drag of his cock inside. 

The agony of Cas’s hips grinding down into his tender, abused skin sends sparks grating down every nerve. He knows the pained, animal sounds are coming from his mouth, but he isn’t in control of them. This is the most terrible pleasure, the sweetest torment. It’s never been this good. He never wants it to end, but orgasm is already coiling in him, tight enough to snap. 

As soon as Cas starts to thrust, Dean comes untouched on a high whine of bliss. 

“Goddamn, baby,” Cas praises. “I barely got my cock in you before you came.” 

He starts to pull out, sure that Dean’s poor body has had enough. 

Dean stops him, voice fucked out and breathy. “No, keep going. Please.” 

“You sure?” 

“Never been more sure. Fuck me, Cas. Hard. Don’t hold back.” 

Cas obliges, screwing him through the sensitivity, hips grinding into the inferno that greets him on every thrust. Cas is tipping over, losing himself to the animal lust that engulfs him when he possesses Dean like this. Dean is shaking, whimpering, begging. He’s giving everything, and Cas wants more. He pinches the swollen skin to help bring Dean back to the brink just as Cas is about to come. When he does, it is with a roar, and he pulls Dean under with him. 

They lay flopped on the bed, gasping for breath, trading sated kisses and moving sweat-soaked hair out of the way until Cas realizes that he needs water more than his next breath. 

On the way back from the mini-fridge, he notices that Dean is still shaking. Violently. 

“Hey, baby? You okay?” 

Dean looks into his boyfriend’s gorgeous blue eyes and tries to smile to reassure him. He can feel the backlash coming. Flooding his body with so much intense pleasure comes at a price. It doesn’t always happen, but he hasn’t done this in so long that he should have expected that it would strike hard. He needs to touch and be held. It’s the best way to regain his equilibrium, but he won’t ask for it. He knows the limits of what Cas can give. 

“Yeah,” he lies shakily. “Can you hand me that pillow?” 

Cas does and notices the powerful grip Dean has on it immediately. He’s clutching it to him like a life raft. Dean’s trembling doesn’t let up, and he is forcing long, deep breaths into and out of his lungs. Something isn’t right. 

“What can I do?” 

“Is there juice in the fridge?” 

He leaps up to go check and stops midway across the room when he realizes what’s happening. 

“Dean? Are you dropping?” 

Dean doesn’t answer, just closes his eyes and nods. 

“Shit,” he mutters and raids the fridge. There’s a little round bottle of juice that he grabs and gathers it to him along with a large bar of chocolate and a package of nuts. 

Hurrying back to Dean, he kneels behind him and helps him sit up gingerly. He holds the bottle and tips it up for Dean to drink. When the little bottle is empty, he tosses it aside and helps Dean curl up with his back against him. Cas opens the chocolate and makes him open his mouth to take a piece. Cas helps himself to a chunk of the creamy sweet treat before setting it on the end table. 

“What do you need, baby?” 

“Nothing. I’m good.” 

Cas huffs in exasperation. “You’re not good. I want to help. Tell me how I can help.” 

Still shaky, Dean turns to look at him. “Cas, this was my idea. I wanted it. I can handle the fallout.” 

Cas puts a gentle hand on his cheek to keep him from turning away. “No, baby. That isn’t how this works. We did this together. We enjoyed each other intensely, and now we will take care of each other.” 

Dean blows out a breath, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. “I need to touch, Cas. I’m not going to ask that of you. I’m fine doing it this way.” 

Cas tells him to turn over, and as he does, he forcibly takes the pillow out of his arms and throws it behind him. “Put your arms around me, Dean.” 

Hesitantly, Dean does as he’s told, too exhausted to fight. The warmth of Cas’s skin against his chest makes him sigh in contentment, his arms banding around him on their own. “Jesus, you feel good,” Dean praises, tucking his head into his neck. “I’m sorry I’m making you uncomfortable.” 

Cas lets his hands run up and down Dean’s back, light and soothing. “You aren’t, Dean. The more we touch, the easier it gets. I’m more comfortable with you touching me than anyone I’ve ever known.” 

Dean hums, and when Cas looks down, he sees his eyes have slipped closed. 

“Goodnight, my love.” 

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore your comments. Please consider leaving feedback. It helps keep me motivated.
> 
> [Find me on Tumblr here](https://angelaland.tumblr.com)


	11. Protective Detail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have to part for a while. Dean takes his situation to the police. Cas tries to find Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, darlings!
> 
> I passed a huge test today, so I was able to come home and finish this chapter earlier than anticipated. I might actually get the next one up early, too. We'll see...
> 
> This chapter is plot, plot, plot. Did I mention there might be some plot?
> 
> No smut today, but there will be lots in the next chapter...

The fluffy, crisp Belgium waffles with caramelized bananas tastes like ash in Dean’s mouth. It isn’t the chef’s fault. Any other time, he’s sure that they would be delicious. Everyone around them seems to be delighted by the food, so it’s obviously just him. Only Cas is picking reluctantly at his food, too. Dean can’t swallow another bite because anticipation and dread are coiling up in his stomach and snaking around his throat, insistent and clenching. He doesn’t want to deal with the shit show that is coming at his dad’s office, especially alone. He wants Cas there, and he could probably even rationalize it to himself. After all, Cas has already talked to the police. He was also the only reliable eye witness that can place Michael at the club when he was drugged. But. He knows how important control is to his father, how utterly out of control he feels about this situation, and what an elitist asshole John can be when he’s angry. Dean refuses to subject Cas to his bullshit. Once this Michael issue is dealt with, he can talk to his parents about Cas, let them get to know him. Just, not now. Dean pushes his dish away with most of the food still on it. Cas glances at it and meets his eye with a sad smile, empathizing with his mood. 

“We probably should have just skipped breakfast, huh?” 

Cas huffs and pushes his plate away, too. “We can take it to go.” 

A look of concern crosses his face, and he leans in to squeeze Dean’s forearm. “Is it the pain?” 

Dean replies, “No, that aloe gel they brought up did the trick. I feel pretty good for how bruised I'm going to be.” 

When Cas saw Dean’s ass on the way to the shower this morning, he paled and immediately called down to the concierge. Thankfully, the gift shop had something to help take away the worst of the pain. He had been fine inflicting the pain for Dean’s pleasure last night, but seeing the aftermath in the light of day makes him a bit squeamish. Dean assures him that he is fine, but Cas is feeling guilt over the mess he made on that beautiful skin. 

“I didn’t go too far, did I?” 

“No, it was fucking amazing.” At Cas’s continued look of disbelief, Dean explains. “Look, you remember what you said about not having a lot of experience with this?” 

“Of course.” 

“Then trust me when I say you didn’t do anything wrong because I do have experience. I’m not upset by the bruising. It’s part of it. You did exactly what I wanted and it was even better than I had hoped.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Dean smirks. “Fishing for compliments?” 

With a scowl, Cas inquires, “Do you want me to do it again?” 

“Hell, yeah!” Dean licks his lips; his voice full of desire at the thought. 

“Then I need to know what I did right so I can repeat it, yes?” 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Okay, I suppose.” He bites his lip and then admits, “But I have no idea what you did differently. I just know that no one’s ever gotten me to float like that. I was in outer space.” 

“Like subspace?” 

Dean shrugs. “I don’t know what you call it.” A shy smile breaks across his face as he explains, “I’ve had a floaty, tingly feeling before, but last night? I was in a different galaxy.” 

His eyes light up with the remembered bliss, making Cas curious about how taking a beating like that could translate to euphoria. He doesn’t understand all of it, but if Dean enjoys it? He’s all in. Watching him devolve into such fervent need was undeniably gorgeous. “What does it feel like?” 

“I’ve heard it compared to an opiate high, but I’ve never done anything like that, so I don’t know if it’s accurate. It’s like a full body orgasm and being wrapped up in the softest blanket at the same time. I couldn’t have had a coherent thought if I tried. All I know is that it was incredible, and I really hope you want to do it again sometime.” Dean looks tentative, like he isn’t sure if Cas is still on board. 

Cas pins him with a heated gaze, “Sweetheart, to get you to respond to me like that again? I’ll gladly become a master sadist.” 

 

***** 

 

In the car, Dean lets the quiet take hold. Classic rock hums from the speakers, nostalgic and comforting like a faded Polaroid. On the highway, he can really put Baby through her paces. The growl of her engine vibrates, rocking them like a lullaby. Cas reaches over unexpectedly and takes his hand from where it rests on his thigh. Dean watches him from his peripheral vision, but lets him do what he wants without comment. Cas takes his hand and sandwiches it between both of his. Letting it rest on top of his right, he uses the left to gently touch his fingers and palm. 

“Will you help me try to get over this touch thing?” 

Dean knows how much it costs Cas to ask for anything, let alone something so personal, something that he perceives as a flaw. 

“Of course, Cas. Whatever you want.” 

Cas frowns. “I don’t have a clue of how to go about it, though.” 

Dean hums in thought. “What if we make it a game?” 

“Of course you would make it a game,” he teases. 

“I’m going to ignore that rude comment and help you anyway.” 

“Sorry, tell me more.” 

Dean rolls his eyes but continues. “I don’t know. I guess like every time we see each other, you let me touch you for five minutes. Or, every day you open yourself up to two or three different touches. Whatever you choose, I think if you make it a challenge, it will be fun. It will feel good when you can complete it, and that will help positively reinforce being touched.” 

Cas bites his lip and narrows his eyes in concentration before taking a deep breath. “That’s really brilliant, actually.” 

Dean flashes his sunshine smile, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Want to start now?” Dean’s eyes slide hungrily over Cas’s body, innuendo heavy in his voice. 

“You’re driving.” 

“Want me to pull over?” 

“You’re ridiculous.” Cas huffs while trying not to smile. 

“You’re sexy as hell, and I’m about to drop you off. I don’t ever want to miss an opportunity to get my hands on you.” 

Cas sniffs and looks out the window to hide his pleased smile. “I’ll let you touch me when we get there.” 

“Don’t tease me, Cas. My heart can’t take it.” 

 

***** 

 

Cas keeps his word and gives Dean open access to touch him from the time they get out of the car until they say their goodbyes. He uses the time to run his fingers through Cas’s hair to straighten out some of the more chaotic strands, to guide him into his room with a touch to the small of his back, and to pull him in for a hug. Even while taking advantage of what’s been offered, Dean watches him carefully, ready to pull the plug if Cas looks distressed or uncomfortable. He marvels at the fact that Cas gazes at him with open admiration instead of panic. 

In Cas’s living room, Dean tangles their fingers together when he steps close. “I know we’ve talked about it already,” he says quietly, keeping the words only between them and away from the ears of his nosy roommates, “but this weekend was perfect. Thank you for spending it with me.” 

“It was definitely my pleasure,” Cas replies. “Any time you feel like spoiling someone with a trip to a luxurious hotel, I’m happy to oblige.” 

Dean cups his cheek and runs his thumb over Cas’s petal soft bottom lip. “Good, because there’s no one I’d rather spoil.” 

With a lingering look at Dean’s lips, Cas closes the distance between them and takes a chaste kiss. Dean encourages him to deepen it by opening to him, but after a few moments, they pull back regretfully. “See you soon, Cas.” 

“Text me when you figure out your plan.” 

Dean nods his agreement, looks his fill, and then heads through the door. Cas leans against it once it’s closed behind him. “Goddamn apple pie,” he mutters with a grin. 

Gabe is speechless, but not for long. “What the fuck, Cas?” 

Cas is shaken out of his reverie by the rude squawking. “What’s the problem?” 

“You! You’re the problem. You go away for the weekend and come back as Stepford Cas. You’re all...romanced and doe-eyed.” 

Cas scowls and flips him off, flopping down on the couch. “I’m not all doe-eyed.” 

Gabe blinks at him a few times. “He had his fucking hands all over you and, and you just...let him.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Dude. We’ve known each other for years and I can’t even pat you on the back without getting punched.” 

“I’ve never fucked you, either. What’s your point?” Cas asks drolly. He takes his phone out to check the time. He wants to text Dean, but knows he’ll be in the car for at least twenty minutes. He shouldn’t distract him. One of the couch cushions bounces off his head, and he levels an intense glare at his roommate. 

“I’m trying to talk to you, ass wipe. Think you could put your phone down and give me a minute of your time?” 

Cas puts it down and leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. Gabe thanks him sarcastically. “Seriously, Cas. Does this guy have a magic cock or what?” 

Cas grins. “Magic? No. Beautiful, thick, delicious? Absolutely.” 

Gabe fake-gags. “So, real talk. What’s with the touchy-feely?” 

“We’re dating. Boyfriends touch. I’m coping.” Cas sighs. 

Now Gabe’s eyes go dramatically wide. “Wait! Dating?! You. You’re dating?” 

Already annoyed with the conversation, Cas stands to leave. Immediately, his roommate backtracks. “Wait, wait, wait. I’m sorry.” 

When Cas sits again, he continues. “You have to admit, though, Cas. It’s not like it’s ever happened before.” 

Cas twitches his lips, unsure how much he wants to share. “He-he’s different.” When Gabe meets his eye and doesn’t act like a dick, Cas opens up a little more. “He’s fucking perfect. He makes me want to be better.” 

A furrowed brow on Gabe is unusual. “He’s not trying to change you, is he?” 

“No, not at all. For some bizarre reason, he likes me for me.” 

“Not so bizarre, Cas.” 

Cas accepts the compliment, nodding his thanks. 

“What makes him so perfect?” 

Thinking of Dean brings a soft smile to his face. “Shit. So many things.” Cas runs his tongue behind his teeth in thought. “He has a full time job as a social worker, and he spends his free time in Southie taking care of kids in danger of slipping through the cracks. He has this...joy in his heart for everything. It’s so easy to get swept up in it. He’s brutally honest, but so careful with people, like he knows their limits and won’t push past them. He loves turning everything into a game...” 

“Holy shit,” Gabe says quietly. “I was expecting you to try to gross me out by talking about his oral skills or something, not wax poetic about the guy.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“Cas, are you in love with him?” 

Cas pulls a sour face full of denial. “Don’t be ridiculous. We haven’t known each other that long, and we just started this, whatever it is, this weekend.” 

“So you spent Friday night through Sunday with him, right? Full time? Every minute? I bet you couldn’t wait to put some distance between you, huh?” 

A distraught look crosses Cas’s face, and he looks down at the floor without comment. 

Gabe huffs a laugh. “This is some heart-eyes shit if I’ve ever seen it. Cas. He just walked out the door, and you are fucking pining for him.” Cas doesn’t deny it, just leans back and closes his eyes. 

“When are you going to see him again?” 

“He’s going to call when he gets done with this meeting. Whatever they decide will determine where he’s staying, so we aren’t sure.” 

“If you could decide for him?” 

Cas sighs and opens his eyes. “I’d never let him out of my sight.” 

Gabe nods in understanding, letting the subject drop for now. He’s shocked to see this side of his old friend. In fact, shocked is an understatement. He’s never known anyone as closed off and isolated as Cas, and he’s been this way since they met way back in grade school. 

Even as a puny little runt, Cas had been formidable. Gabe was there the day that Cas's reputation began to take shape. They must have been eight or nine, and this mouthy fuck was teasing him about being an orphan. Cas didn’t say a word, just kicked him between the legs like he was trying to send him to the moon. When the bully toppled over gasping for breath, Cas slung his backpack off his shoulder and started waling on him with it, heavy textbooks and all. There was a viciousness to the attack, something hinting that Cas didn’t have limits, which had more than one tough Southie kid taking a step back. When the adults finally pulled Cas away, he was covered in the other kid’s blood, and he didn’t seem to understand why they were upset with him. Their scolding about how wrong it was to hit the other kid like that might as well have been delivered in another language for all that he understood it. With a tilt to his head, he simply explained, “but it made him stop.” 

Over the years, Cas became the enforcer of their little gaggle of miscreants. He was the one that wouldn’t hesitate to throw a punch or wield a knife, whether it was necessary or not. The locals gave him a wide berth; they treated him with respect. Dean may not realize it, but by being seen in Cas’s company, he had protection that most would pay good money for. No one in this neighborhood would dare fuck with what belonged to Cas. Except, in this case, it looked like Cas might be the one who belonged to Dean. 

“So, are you still in on the Wadleigh job?” 

Cas stands and stretches, heading over to the fridge. “The warehouse thing?” 

Gabe nods, watchful. Cas grabs water and drinks down a gulp, looking lost in thought. 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

Gabe’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Why the fuck not? It’s an easy score.” 

Cas had agreed to the robbery weeks ago, thought it sounded like a simple job. Now, though. He thinks about how Dean would react to it, what he would say, and Cas just isn’t interested. His scale of justice has a new weight to it; because of Dean, because of Cas’s desire to be better for him. He smirks. “Just not worth it.” 

“So you’re getting steady dick and what – you suddenly grow a conscience?” 

“Maybe he’s just a good influence, Gabe.” 

Sputtering and indignant, he teases, “You should bottle his come. It apparently has morally therapeutic value.” 

Cas heads toward his room, but answers, “If it does, I’ve swallowed enough of it to make me a saint by now.” 

 

***** 

 

When Dean opens the door to his father’s office, he stops short, feeling like he’s been rooked into an intervention. Around the conference table sit at least four uniformed police officers in addition to Detective Walker, the District Attorney, two of the firm’s partners, and a stenographer? A woman with short, brunette hair sits across from Walker; her sharp eyes assessing Dean, searching for any important clues into his psyche. She must be another detective. 

Dean slips on his most charming, lop-sided grin. “You all sure know how to make a guy feel special.” 

His father lets out an exasperated sound, “No one’s here to flirt, son, sit your ass down and let’s get on with it.” 

Dean feels a bit taken aback until he remembers that John is completely immune to his particular brand of bullshit. Dean sits down and waits to be addressed. Once he’s seated at the table, quick introductions are made around the room. 

“So, walk us through this whole mess,” his dad begins. “When did you first notice someone stalking you?” 

“I didn’t realize it, not until a friend of mine brought it to my attention.” 

John scowls. “And this friend that you’re talking about is this Cas person?” 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yes, the same one we talked about yesterday.” 

Looks of confusion dart around the table. Dean is happy to clarify. “We’re dating and my father isn’t thrilled about it.” 

“Don’t put words in my mouth, son, I’ve never met the guy. But, he’s suddenly the only name on your lips when all of this starts going down? Accidents don’t happen accidentally.” 

“Actually, that’s the definition of accidents, dad.” Dean isn’t sure why he’s feeling so combative today, why he’s acting like a petulant kid. This whole thing just rubs him the wrong way. Before his dad can work up the head of steam to respond, Dean puts his hands up and apologizes. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be antagonistic. I’m just nervous as hell and I expected this to be a heart to heart with my dad, not the formation of a task force.” 

“It’s okay, kid. We invited ourselves along to try to speed up the process. If we’re all briefed at once, we can set things in motion today and get you back to your normal life as soon as possible.” 

Walker is smooth, Dean will give him that. He’d bet that most victims and their families fell for the macho, ‘we’ll take it from here’ bullshit he is spinning. Dean’s grown up with John, though, who is a master at persuasion and manipulation. 

Warily, Dean begins, “About a month ago, I was playing a pick-up game at St. Augustine’s-” 

“In Southie?” the sharp-eyed woman, Detective Mills, asks. 

“Yeah. I have a youth program there.” 

“How long have you been working there?” 

“Six months?” 

She nods, adding to her notes. 

“Cas pointed out a guy in the crowd and asked me if I’d seen him before. He’d been around at several games, and I recognized him.” 

“That was Michael Boyar?” 

“That’s what Cas said. He said they grew up together in the neighborhood and that he was extremely dangerous.” 

The woman took a photo out of her file and slid it over to him. Dean looked at it and nodded. “Yeah, that’s him.” 

“Have you ever talked to Mr. Boyar?” 

“No.” 

“So what makes you think that he is stalking you?” 

“He’s been following me. He was at my office and at my home. When I was out at a club with my roommate, he drugged me.” 

“Did you bring the hospital records?” John asked. Dean slid them over to Walker. 

“Who brought you to the hospital?” Mills continues. 

“My roommate, Benny, but it was Cas that noticed something was wrong and brought me to Benny.” 

“So you were there with Cas?” 

“No, I was there with Benny. Cas followed me.” 

“So Cas is stalking you too?” Walker jumps in. 

“No. It’s not like that. Cas was worried about this Boyar guy, so he was looking after me.” 

“What is Cas’s full name?” 

“Why?” 

“Answer the question, son.” 

“Castiel Novak” 

Detective Mills opens a second file and Dean can see a mugshot, chaotic black hair standing out in contrast with the background. He shakes his head and holds out his hand to stop her before she puts it in front of him. “I don’t want to see that. It’s none of my business.” 

John squints at him and asks, “So you knew he has an arrest record?” 

“I assumed. Kids who grow up on the street usually do.” 

Mills asks sympathetically, “Do you know what’s in it?” 

“No. Like I said, it’s not my business.” 

“What if it’s relevant to this case?” Walker suggests. 

“Is it?” 

“No.” Mills replies sharply and scowls at Walker. 

He ignores her, “You said that Novak and Boyar grew up together. They could be working together, teaming up to-” 

“No,” Dean denies. 

“How long have you known Novak?” 

Dean’s jaw tightens; he feels the shift in the room, the accusatory weight of eyes on him. 

“Only for a couple of months.” 

“So, just before he alerted you to Boyar?” 

Dean slams his hand down on the table. “Cas has nothing to do with this. I’m not going to listen to you try to make him the scapegoat.” 

John steps in again. “Dean, I know you like the boy, but what if there’s some truth to this? How are you so certain that he’s not involved?” 

Dean takes a deep breath to calm himself. “Okay, let’s think about this. What is Boyar after? Why is he following me?” 

Everyone around the table looks uncomfortably away, suddenly feeling the need to fidget and shuffle papers. Muttering under his breath, Dean finally says, “He wants me, either for sex or violence. Either way, he’s looking for a way to get to me. Right?” 

No one disagrees. Mills adds, “If he was responsible for drugging you, he probably meant to kidnap you that night.” 

Dean nods his agreement. “So if Cas was working with him, why would he take me to Benny? Why would he have ruined Michael’s chance to snatch me? Also, Cas has had numerous opportunities to bring me to him. I’ve slept in his apartment, he stayed with me at a hotel this weekend, we’ve been alone together a hundred times. We’ve been together in public and private places. There’s no reason he would have wasted all of those windows. He would have made a play by now.” 

Again, no one disagrees. “Besides, if Boyar wanted me for sex, which we have to assume based on his priors, wouldn’t he be upset that Cas was with me?” 

“What do you mean ‘with you’?” Walker asks. 

“If you really need me to spell it out, Cas and I are intimate.” 

The look of disgust on the detective’s face makes Dean’s stomach flip. It’s been a long time since he has been directly confronted by bigotry, and he can’t help but dig in a little in response. “That means we fuck. A lot. Two or three times a day, actually.” 

“Dean.” The warning tone in his father’s voice gives him pause, but doesn’t make him stop. “Just this morning, he had me bent-” 

“Dean! That’s enough.” 

The discomfort on Walker’s face is satisfying. Homophobic asshole. Dean glares around the table, checking to see the other reactions. His dad’s partners are neutral, as are most of the officers. Mills is actively trying to hide a smirk behind her hand. Dean catches her eye and winks. She shakes her head, but fondly. “I agree with your assessment, Mr. Winchester. Castiel actually came to see me weeks ago to report all of this. He was emphatic that we look into it, but he just didn’t have enough evidence to warrant it.” 

“So you thought you’d what- wait until I was dead? Then maybe check it out?” Dean is challenging her, pushing her buttons, but he has to see what she is made of. Scrutinizing him, she nods and smiles. “Now I get it.” 

Dean narrows his gaze. “Get what?” 

“I couldn’t see what you two could possibly have in common, how you made any sense together. But after meeting you, it’s obvious.” 

Dean can feel her lean back into him as if it is a physical force. She isn’t going to enlighten him unless he asks. She’s dangling it there for him, but he has to admit he wants it. Fuck it. He’ll bite. “Yeah? What is it you think you understand about us?” 

“Well, for starters, you’re both mouthy little shits with authority issues.” 

The tension in the room is suddenly suffocating. Nervous, twitchy movements flicker from face to face, wondering how John will handle her comment. He’s not known for his tolerance. Before he has a chance to respond, though, Dean chuckles. “You’re not wrong. Continue.” 

“You’ve both dealt with a lot of pain, but you hide it really well. He hides behind that arrogant thug exterior, and you hide behind this equally arrogant, all-American boy persona.” 

Dean has nothing to disagree with yet. “But the part I find really fascinating? By anyone’s standards, you hardly know each other. A few weeks isn’t long enough to form any kind of strong relationship. But, both of you are willing to do just about anything to protect the other one.” 

Dean finally breaks their gaze. “It’s what anyone would do. It’s not that special.” 

“Do you know how many people in relationships would turn down the opportunity to look at their significant other’s arrest record? I’d be willing to bet the percentage is somewhere in the single digits.” 

Dean’s cheeks pink up, and he clears his throat. “Look. Normally, I wouldn’t put details about my personal life on public record, but it seems like Cas is going to continue to be a suspect unless I do. So, no. We haven’t known each other long. In that brief time, though, he’s become very important to me. Quite possibly, his unorthodox way of looking out for me saved my life. Beyond that, he’s an amazing person that I admire for a number of reasons. On the surface, he looks like what he wants everyone to believe, that he’s dangerous. He’s all rough edges, sharp and unpredictable. He’s had a shit life so far, so I’m sure that there are things on his rap sheet that I wouldn’t like. But that’s something that we will talk about. I’m going to trust him to tell me when he’s ready. Looking at it without his permission? Like I have a right to invade his privacy? If I can do that, then I don’t deserve him.” 

The table is silent, so Dean looks up, meeting his father’s eye. He’s surprised to see the proud look there, but it bolsters the feeling that he’s said the right thing. 

Mills immediately gets back to the line of questioning, interrupting him only when she needs clarification. He notices that Walker is suspiciously quiet throughout. 

By early afternoon, they’ve rehashed the entire story from Dean’s perspective, Mills has read through her notes from her meeting with Cas, and he’s learned way too much information about his stalker. Apparently, he’s not only a violent psychopath, but he’s also smart. They believe that he has committed at least a dozen other rapes and at least ten of those turned to homicide. Unfortunately, they can’t prosecute because all of their evidence is circumstantial. In fact, the only charges ever to stick had to be thrown out during the trial because of a mix up in the chain of custody of key evidence. That botched paperwork is the reason that Michael Boyar is on the street, and could be the lynchpin deciding whether or not Dean makes it to his next birthday. 

Given all of the information they’ve gathered, the police don’t have a lot of solutions to offer. They have an APB out to bring Michael in for questioning and extra officers are watching his neighborhood. They asked Dean if he wanted to go into protective custody, but there’s no way he’s going to do that. He’d have to take off from work, skip out on his kids, and it would make him go stir crazy inside of a week. When their suggestions run out, Dean questions them about him carrying a weapon. 

“You don’t have a gun, and you don’t know how to use one,” he dad scoffs. 

“Actually, I do.” 

“Dean, of all of the hare-brained ideas-” 

“Dad, I work in some dangerous areas, so I’ve been thinking of getting one for a while. I bought it yesterday, and Cas taught me the basics. I won’t use it until I get my license to carry.” 

Mills steps in, “Well, I guess we’d better get that class done today, and then you’ll be official.” 

“You’d fast track that for me?” Dean asks hesitantly. 

“Of course. We’re still your best defense, but things can happen quickly. Even the threat that you’re not going to go down easy is sometimes enough to scare off an attacker or at least buy you time for us get there.” 

“Son, may I have a minute?” For all its quietness, the request is most definitely an order. Everyone around the table takes that as their cue to get out, Walker being the first one across the threshold. John asks Detective Mills to wait outside for them, but then shuts the door with a quiet click. 

The sound seems to shine a light behind the mask John is wearing. He’s Atlas, shaking under the weight of the world. He pulls Dean to him, engulfing him in a constricting hug. The trembling in his dad’s strong arms scares him more than anything he’s ever faced. 

“I can’t do it, Dean. I can’t watch you slip away from me, too.” 

Dean can hear the anguish in his father’s voice, the memory of Sam still raw, as it will always be. 

“Shit, dad. I’m sorry.” 

“I’m not blaming you. You haven’t done anything wrong here.” John lets go and angrily swipes at his eyes. “But I need you to realize that you’re not indestructible.” 

Dean looks away from the desperate look on his father’s – his hero’s- face, chin shaking with restrained emotion. “You know as well as I do that being young doesn’t mean being invincible.” 

Blinking back his own agony, Dean’s heart shatters anew at the memory of his baby brother’s broken body. “I know. I’m sorry that I’ve been so glib about this. I didn’t think about how it would affect you and mom, and that was really selfish. What do you want me to do? Whatever it is, I’ll do it.” 

John huffs out a humorless laugh. “If I’d known that all I had to do to make you fall in line was shed a few tears, I’d have bawled like a baby through your entire college career.” 

Dean shakes his head with a tug to his lips. “And no doubt I’d be finishing up law school right now.” 

John ruffles his hair and pulls him in to a one-armed hug, pats his back in a manly way and puts some distance between them. 

“I don’t know how much you got out of that clusterfuck of jurisdictional bullshit, but it sounds like protective custody is the only way to ensure your safety until they pick up this scumbag.” 

Dean sighs. Why did he just agree to do whatever his dad asked? “Yeah, but what if it takes a while? The relationships I’ve built with these kids won’t hold up under a long absence. They’re all dealing with abandonment issues, so if I disappear, so will they. They didn’t give their trust easily, and I doubt they’ll give it twice.” 

“Give it a week?” 

He hates this so much. He wants to rail against having to give up his freedom, his autonomy, because some inconsequential nutjob likes the way he looks. He consoles himself with the fact that it’s just until they find him and lock him up. “Fine, but I’m not going through Walker’s precinct. I want Mills.” 

John nods his agreement. “Yeah, I’ll deal with that bigoted prick myself. I think the chief will be furious to know how he conducted himself today.” 

Dean smiles in corroboration. Revenge can be sweet, even when someone else dishes it up. 

 

***** 

Dean drives with Detective Mills to his apartment to pack a bag, and then to her precinct to get his license handled. When he leaves with the plain-clothed officers to a shitty little house on the outskirts of town, a holstered gun rests at his back. It’s going to take a lot of getting used to. The officers each drop off their gear in the front and back bedrooms, leaving the one in the middle for him. 

Flopping down on the army blanket, he hisses at the forgotten bruising across his ass. His weight makes dust pop up all around him in a haze. He gasps and chokes before getting up to shake it out. The sheets underneath look threadbare and yet still stiff. Wonderful. Even while actively trying to rein in his more fussy instincts, he can’t help but compare his new accommodations with those he had this morning. The Envoy this is not. Nothing against the guys he’s temporarily living with, but they aren’t Cas, either. 

He takes advantage of the first moment of privacy he’s had all day and calls his boyfriend. He hates that word. It sounds so juvenile, but what else is he supposed to call him? Lover? Partner? Just, no. So, boyfriend it is for now. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, Cas. It’s Dean.” 

“This isn’t your number.” 

“No, they uh, took my phone. They found a GPS tracker in it, so they didn’t think it was safe for me to keep.” 

Cas mutters something under his breath and sighs. “Don’t freak out, but I put the tracker in your phone.” 

“What? Why?” 

“I put it in there before I started following you. I needed to be able to find you in case...” 

“In case what?” 

“There are a lot of ways to end that sentence, and none of them are good. Just in case, okay?” 

Silence over the line makes Cas twitchy. He leans against the outside wall of the bar he just left, “I’m sorry, Dean. I know it’s an invasion of your privacy, but I only used it twice to locate you when I lost track of Michael.” 

“Were you ever going to tell me?” 

“Honestly, I completely forgot about it. If I had remembered, I would have confessed to it when I came clean to you last week.” 

Dean’s torn. He should be a lot more upset about this than he is. Mostly, though, he’s dying to talk to Cas, so he’s willing to ignore the tracker issue for now. “I’m going to give you a pass on this one, but the next time I fuck up, you’re going to be incredibly forgiving. Understood?” 

Cas chuckles, “I understand. How was your meeting?” 

Dean groans. “I’m in protective custody.” 

Cas’s eyes open wide. “Fuck, really?” 

“Yeah, Detective Mills offered use of her safe house until they find Michael.” 

Worry furrows his brow. “Dean, sweetheart, that could take a while. I’ve been out all day looking for him. I have enough clout down here to command peoples' honesty, which is a hell of a lot more than the police are going to get. There’s not a whisper of him anywhere. No one’s seen him in several days.” 

Dean closes his eyes on a curse. “God damnit. I promised them a week. That’s as long as I’m willing to stay away from work.” 

“And then what will you do?” 

“I don’t know. I’ll have to think of something else when the time comes.” 

Cas has to bite his lip to prevent himself from offering his apartment. It’s not the time or the place to offer to move him in. Dean is looking for a temporary home, a safe haven, a solution to his problem. He is not looking for a romantic entanglement, even if they’ve just spent all weekend playing house together. Although, it is so easy to picture waking up next to Dean for the foreseeable future. He’s terrified by how fast he’s falling. 

“So are you locked up in your secure location, or can you come and go?” 

“I might as well be wearing an orange jumpsuit.” 

Cas groans. He’s pushes off the wall and heads home. 

“You're preaching to the choir.” 

“How did this all come about? It’s a huge leap from talking to your dad to hiding out with a police escort.” 

Dean relays the relevant parts of the meeting, carefully leaving out the fact that the police were ready to put him in a cell with Michael. He’ll tell Cas about it, he’s always going to be honest with him, but not over the phone. 

By the time Dean is through with his recap, Cas is home and laying down in bed with his sketch book. “Mills says hello, by the way.” 

“Really? Hello? Nothing that included a rude gesture or some creative suggestions of what I could do with myself?” 

“No, she likes you.” 

Cas scoffs at that, flipping to the sketch of Dean sleeping in the hotel. His fingertips brush over the pencil lines delicately, wishing they were three-dimensional. 

“She kicked me out of the precinct because I called the police a bunch of pussies who botched Boyar’s trial. She didn’t take it well.” 

“Well, to be honest, you were right. He’s out because someone in evidence lock up lost some paperwork.” 

“No shit? I guess that explains her reaction.” Cas laughs. 

“To be honest, she called you a ‘mouthy little shit with authority issues’.” 

“And from that you got that she likes me?” 

“Yeah, it was said with affection. She was comparing us to each other at the time, and she loves me.” 

Cas smiles fondly. “Of course she does. Everyone does.” 

Dean makes a disapproving noise, which makes Cas laugh. 

“Alright, alright. What else happened? Nothing you’ve said explains how you got yourself into this predicament.” 

Dean clears his throat, and when he speaks again, it’s somber. “I promised my dad. This situation is bringing up a lot of old wounds, and he is terrified that he’s going to lose me like he lost Sam.” 

“Oh, shit. I hadn’t thought about that.” 

“Yeah, me neither, until my dad had a breakdown in his office. I haven’t seen him cry since we buried my brother. It was heartbreaking to see, and I would have done anything he asked to make it stop. So, here I am.” 

Cas hums his understanding and turns to a fresh page in his book. “Tell me about Sam?” 

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a message for me. I get lonely. Please and Thank you.
> 
> [Find me on Tumblr here](https://angelaland.tumblr.com)


	12. Beautiful When You Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean does not enjoy the safe house, and they both hate being apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to break this chapter in half because I tried to get too much plot into it, and there wouldn't have been any room for the sex. I think we all know by now that that's not happening!

Dean’s red-rimmed eyes stare back in the mirror. Three days in this shit hole, and he’s aged years. The never-ending rotation of young officers he’s forced to cohabitate with might have piqued his interest a couple of months ago, but now it’s just exhausting. Always charming and easy-going in front of strangers, the only places Dean can be himself are behind two closed doors: the one shutting him into the ten foot square room with a sagging mattress and no windows, or the one he’s currently behind. The door to the bathroom that is becoming as disgusting as anything he’s seen at a frat house party. 

His conversation with Cas the other night had dredged up some deeply-buried details of losing Sam, and he’d been holed up in the cave-like room licking old wounds and feeling sorry for himself. It didn’t help that the anniversary of his brother’s death was coming up quickly. Seven years. Fuck. How could it have been that long? He’s been practicing, saying it for months, getting used to the idea that it’s going to be more than six. 

Every year, as the memories fade out like sun-bleached towels, he expects the pain to finally lessen, for the clench around his heart to lighten up even a little. It doesn’t. The pain is chronic, and the only change he manages is to heap guilt, like sand, into all of the cracks and spaces of his heart: survivor’s guilt; guilt over forgetting the sound of Sam’s voice; guilt over smiling, laughing, feeling joy; guilt over his relationship with Cas. Sam never had a first love. He never finished 10 th  grade. He never learned to drive. As Dean experiences every first in his life, he can’t help but add it to the ever-growing list of what Sam will never do. 

His phone pings with a text notification. He blinks away the melancholy, glad for the distraction from his horrible thoughts.

      11:27am:  _ Has it really only been three days??? _

Dean smiles at the text. Cas’s messages have been the single bright spot in his life this week. 

                                                       11:27am:  I know, right?

     11:28am: __ _ Any chance I can break you out? I have something to show you. _

                                                      11:28am:  Can you send me a picture?

     11:28am: __ _ Not of this. I want to show you in person.  _

A lascivious grin spreads across his face. Images of Cas in all sorts of compromising positions flicker across his mind’s eye. They are interrupted by another notification.

     11:29am: __ _ Get your mind out of the gutter, Dean. I designed something for your tattoo. _

Dean laughs, but finds himself intrigued. Warmth spreads through his body at the thought that Cas made a piece of art just for him. He can’t wait to see it.

                                                     11:29am:  Let me see what I can do. Give me 5.

Dean finds the officers in charge sprawled across the couch watching a basketball game. He waits until he has their attention and then announces with authority, “I’m going stir crazy and I need to spend some time...not here. I’m going one way or the other, but I thought I’d give you a heads up so we might be able to work out an amicable agreement.”

Both of them jump up, talking over each other, trying to dissuade him. He finds that living with John Winchester his whole life has left him with not too shabby negotiation skills. It’s easier than he thought possible to get most of what he wants. 

                                                   11:41am:  Can you meet me at Singer Salvage in about  3 0 minutes?

     11:41am _ :  _ _ Absolutely. See you there, sweetheart. _

*****

Cas watches through the window when the nondescript older car rolls into the parking lot. Two men with military haircuts get out of the front seat and look around. One opens the back door and Cas smiles. Dean looks exhausted, but he’s here. Cas has been itching to reacquaint himself with Dean’s sweet cinnamon taste, his heated scent of sunshine and leather.

When the door opens with a mechanical ding, bickering floats in on the air ahead of the men. 

“The yard is completely enclosed. There’s only one entrance, and you’re walking through it.”

“You’re not to be out of our sight at any time. Period.”

“I’m also not to be out of the safe house, yet here I am.”

“We can always go back,” one of the officers answers.

“I can always call your boss and tell her that I’m leaving police custody because I can’t stand you two ,  and I’d rather take my chances with a psychopath.”

Both of the officers grit their teeth in response. They look around the decrepit old office, noticing their audience. Dean waves at Bobby, but only has eyes for Cas. 

“Hey, baby. It’s been too long.” His smile softens as he lets Cas pull him into a demanding kiss.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Winchester. We are not here to chaperone your date.”

Dean breaks away just enough to backtalk. “It looks like that’s exactly why you’re here.”

Cas grins at him, hands gripping his hips, unwilling to let go. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Without turning and without taking his eyes from Cas’s, Dean says, “Cas and Bobby, meet Officers Page and Plant. Guys, this is my old friend, Bobby, and my boyfriend, Cas.”

“My name is Hodges, not-”

“Don’t give a fuck. We’re going out back, where we’ll be on camera. Come along if you must.”

Dean holds his hand out, offering for Cas to take it if he wants to. Their fingers glide together easily. Dean taps the counter, charming smirk in place while he asks, “D’ya mind if we do a little target practice while we’re here?”

“You finally learn to shoot?”

“Working on it.”

Bobby narrows his gaze. “Gun’s legal?”

Dean scoffs. “Of course. You think I’d bring Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum if it wasn’t?”

“I think your daddy would blister your behind if it wasn’t.”

Dean’s face heats with a flush when Cas barks out a surprised laugh  behind him . Recovering quickly, Dean winks at Bobby. “Maybe when I was a kid. Now I let Cas do that, but I don’t call him ‘daddy’.”

Behind him, he hears Cas murmur, only for his ears, “Yet.” Dean shivers in response.

“Oh dear lord in heaven,” Bobby growls. “You still don’t have the sense to keep your yap shut, do you, boy?”

“Not when I can still get reactions like that out of you, old man.”

Bobby huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, but looks fondly at Dean. “You know where the range is. Don’t shoot yourself.”

Dean leads them out to a little picnic table to the side of Bobby’s workshop. He sits on the bench sideways, so he can face Cas. “Thanks for meeting me here on such short notice.”

Cas grins. “I can’t believe you got them to agree to bring you.”

“It wasn’t easy. They were not thrilled about the field trip, for sure.”

“I could tell.”

“So what did you want to show me? I’m excited to see it!”

Cas frowns. “It’s just an idea. I thought it would be a good starting place to figure out what you wanted.”

“I’m sure it’s amazing,” Dean says with complete conviction.

“Dean. Tattoos are personal, so you want to be sure that you love it. I won’t be offended if you want to change a bunch of things, or  even  if you want to do something completely different.”

Dean is staring at the sketch book that Cas pulls out of his backpack, intense curiosity etched in his features, a bouncing beat of energy in his knee. 

“Dean.”

“Hmm?”

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes, personal art, you won’t be offended if I change stuff. Got it. Now show me.”

Cas chuckles and opens to the page he was touching up just this morning. 

Everything in Dean stills. His eyes lock on the image, and he’s overwhelmed. Cas has created another three-dimensional, photo-realistic piece that leaves him breathless. At the bottom, a statue of a woman’s face is obviously grieving. Next to her are Latin words fading off at the corners. Above her is the centerpiece, a stone stairway, leading up to large clock face, shattered with parts falling away. Tucked behind the clock is a black rose, which he knows is a symbol for loss. 

“Fuck, it’s beautiful,” he whispers. 

Cas finally exhales. He thought  he’d done well incorporating details of Sam’s story into the design, but it’s satisfying to see that Dean appreciates it. 

Dean had told him that most of Sam’s troubles stemmed from his hat trick diagnosis of very high functioning Asperger’s Syndrome, Depression, and Oppositional Defiant Disorder when he was just seven years old. After years of tweaking medicines, weekly therapy visits, and several in-patient hospital stays, Sam had had enough. When he was just thirteen, he started refusing medication and therapy, and he would run away for days if John or Mary tried to force him. 

Dean had also warmly recalled Sammy’s few areas of intense interest: mythology, saints, languages , and the only one that Dean could really relate to -  classic rock. Apparently, Sam knew the lyrics to ever y  rock song written before 1980, as well as dates and facts about every band. “Led Zeppelin was his favorite, though.” Dean had sounded both proud and nostalgic as he spoke. “He could tell you every concert date they ever played, and their entire set list for each show. Absolutely amazing.”

“Walk me through it?”  Dean asks quietly, eyes never leaving the open book.

“I chose most of the elements based on what you told me about Sam the other night. The statue is Saint Elizabeth Seton, the patron saint of lost children,” Cas explains. 

Dean swallows hard. “My mother has a statue of her in our garden at home. She wears her pendent, too.”

Cas feels an ache in his chest. He might have hit too close to home on that addition to the piece. He continues quietly, watching Dean try to absorb every detail. “The Latin inscription next to her is the -”

“Prayer for the Dead,” Dean finishes for him. “I recognize it. Sam insisted that we go to traditional mass when we were kids. He loved hearing Latin spoken.”

Cas’s surprise shows in his slack mouth and wide eyes. Dean smirks, “I still remember the Pater  Noster , too.”

“And yet you defiled a confessional willingly...”

“Willingly? Try enthusiastically.” Dean smacks a kiss on Cas’s still open mouth and looks back at the sketchbook. “So the stairs?” Before Cas can say anything, understanding dawns. “Wait! Is that the Stairway to Heaven?” 

Cas nods. “You said that was his favorite.”

Dean blinks rapidly and wipes a hand slowly over his mouth. Cas sees the battle he’s having to get control of his emotions, so he continues talking to give him a minute. “The clock is  obvious , but it is shattered because he was taken way before his time. The black rose is symbolic of the loss of beauty or something important.”

After a few moments, Dean can finally form words without them wavering. “Why doesn’t the clock have hands?”

“Oh, you told me the date of Sam’s death, but I couldn’t remember if it was the tenth or twelfth of July.”

“ Twelfth .”

Cas grabs a few pencils out of a zippered case and carefully finishes the drawing, adding in the hour hand pointing to the seven, and the minute hand pointing to the twelve. Dean is silent through the drawing and shading, and Cas checks in with him once he’s done. Dean’s eyes are brimming with unshed tears, bottom lip trembling. Cas curses and pulls him into his arms. “No, no, no, no. Oh, don’t cry, sweetheart.”

Cas holds him while he sobs, lets him clutch at his shoulders, bury his head in his neck, and release the agony he’s let build up.  Cas never had a mother to rock him, to soothe his pain while he cried. After a moment of initial distress at not knowing how to help, he  whispers soothing words and rubs  Dean’s  back . He’s  unsure where the instincts com e  from, but certain they are correct.

When Dean calms a few moments  later, he keeps his  head down and tucked into his chest. “C hrist, you must think I’m soft.”

Cas tips his chin up and sucks in a breath at the ethereal glow to his eyes. They look unreal, more like something out of anime than  what could a ctually  be  human. “No, I think you’re still grieving and you’re dealing with a huge amount of stress.”

Cas can’t help but lean in for another taste. He’s addicted to Dean’s mouth, his plump bottom lip in particular. He could lick and suck on it for hours and never tire of its perfect shape and texture. He lets the kiss spin out, lets Dean slip his tongue into his mouth, chasing his taste. The break apart when they’re breathless, and Cas gives him a teasing grin. “Besides, you’re beautiful when you cry.”

Dean rolls his eyes at Cas, but the comment floats away on the breeze. Several minutes go by as Dean studies the drawing. “C as, I could have thought about this for a million years and never come up with art half as meaningful as what you created. Every detail of that drawing is full of what made Sam so special, and why it still hurts so damn much that he’s gone.”

Heart and mind proud like he’s rarely ever felt, Cas kisses Dean’s forehead. “I’m glad I can help with this. Why don’t you take it with you, and you can let me know what changes you want to make. Okay?”

Dean imagines the drawing in its permanent position on the inside of his left forearm, and he’s ready to do it right now. “No. I don’t want to change a thing. It’s perfect.”

Cas sighs. “Dean, you should really take some time with it.”

“How about this? Let’s go shoot at some targets and then when we’re done, I’ll look at it again.”

Cas makes an exasperated sound. “It’s a start.”

*****

Dean’s aim has gotten better, but he’s still in need of practice. Without it, the gun will serve as nothing but a scare tactic. Still better than nothing, but he’d like to be secure in the fact that Dean can  use it to  defend himself. 

Cas is scouring the ground looking for unshattered bottles and other items that  will  make handy targets. As he gathers them, he fills Dean in on the latest. “I have a lead on Michael, but I don’t know how accurate it is.”

Dean pops up like a prairie dog. “Yeah?”

Cas hates how hopeful he looks. This isn’t good news. “A friend of his cousin’s swears that he took off for Canada.”

“A friend of his cousin’s?” he asks drolly.

“I told you it probably isn’t accurate.”

“Is that even possible? Don’t they have his license and passport flagged?”

“Yes, I called Mills and she confirmed that he’s on a travel watch list. He shouldn’t be able to leave the country at all, whether it’s in a car, train, or airplane.”

Dean sets up the next row of bottles. “Let’s make a bet.”

Cas fills the magazine for Dean’s gun from the box of ammo beside him. “What kind of bet?”

“Whoever gets the most hits on their next row of targets wins something from the other one.”

Cas grins with a predatory gleam and moves toward his adorable boyfriend whose cheeks are  pinking  up in the sun. “Oh, that sounds like fun. What will I win?”

“If you win, you can have whatever you want. But you have to tell me what you’re playing for before we begin.”

“Hmm. So many wonderful ideas come to mind.” Cas purrs, stopping in front of him and tugging his belt loops to sway their hips together. His thumbs rub up over his waistband to caress the tender skin there. 

“ Mmm .” Dean agrees, licking his lips. “Are you going to give me limits?”

“That hardly seems fair when you insist on giving me whatever I want without restriction.”

Delight fl are s in Dean’s eyes. “Then I know what I want.”

“What, sweetheart?”

“I want to fuck you.”

Cas’s face flashes with panic, but he schools his features quickly. 

Dean catches it, though.  The interest in his eyes doubles instantly.  “You’ve never let anyone do that, have you, Cas?”

He clears his throat. “ Uh, n o, never.”

Dean searches his face. “Do you want to add a limit?”

Sweet, beautiful Dean. Always concerned with what Cas wants, what he can handle. “No. If you win, I’ll give you what you want.”

 Cas watches an inferno of lust overtake Dean. It’s a palpable, tangible presence in the air between them. He’s never been interested in bottoming for anyone. Until this very minute, he hadn’t even considered it. Seeing Dean burn at the mere mention of it, makes him think very seriously about throwing the competition so that he can give it to him.

Dean’s hands skim his hips and follow the round globes of his ass,  middle  finger teasing down the cleft. “Fuck, Cas. You’d give me your virgin ass?” He groans, “Goddamn, I’d give anything to have that.”

Cas is fascinated by this side of Dean, pupils blown and practically salivating ; he’s never looked so wolfish . “Have you ever taken anything in your hole, sweetheart?”

“No, not a finger, not a toy, nothing.” Cas grins at the breathy obscenity that huffs out of Dean. Just to be a complete shit, Cas turns in his embrace, rolling his hips back into Dean’s rock hard cock to push it firmly against his ass. “You’d be the first.”

Dean’s head falls back as he lets out a pained gasp. “Christ, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

One more roll of his hips and Dean forces him to still  and sets him a few inches away .  “Fuck, babe. You’re going to make me embarrass myself.”

“How in the world would that be embarrassing? You want me so much that you come in your pants  just  at the thought of fucking me? That’s pretty hot.”

Dean brings him back into his embrace with a hand sprawled across his chest. Cas stiffens momentarily, but settles into his hold.  “So what are you playing for?”

Cas  turns again , pondering. Dean has the good sense to be afraid when he sees  devilish,  wicked glee cross his gorgeous face. Instinctively, he takes a step bac k, and before he can blink, Cas has him  pin ned  up against the fence where they set their targets. “If I win, baby, I want to collar you.”

“W-what? What do you mean by ‘collar me’?” Dean’s heart races at the growled statement, Cas’s voice dropping by a full octave, heavy with lust. His hand comes up to Dean’s neck, holding with a gentle squeeze as he explains, “I want you at my beck and call for a day, naked and submissive at my feet, wearing nothing but my collar around your neck.”

Dean’s lips part on a whimper that  was  meant to be words ,  but  he  c a n’t quite manage  them  when his brain goes offline. Cas licks his lips, and grins at him maniacally. “Oh, you like that idea, don’t you, sweetheart? You want me to dominate you? Possess you? Make you mine?”

Dean’s knees give out, and he leans heavily into the fence. He can picture it so clearly, giving up control and letting Cas use him however he wants. “God, yes. Cas, I want that.”

Before their mouths can meet again, they hear a voice booming from several yards away. “Winchester! Time’s up. Mills is on her way to the safe house for a briefing. If she beats us there, it’s all of our asses.”

*****

Hours later and Dean is still fighting the simmering arousal just under the surface of his skin. It survived the sullen ride back to the safe house, the completely unnecessary briefing with Mills, and another dismal meal of drive-thru burgers. In fact, it  i s worse now than when he had left Cas in Bobby’s office. There hadn’t been time for anything other than a quick goodbye. They hadn’t had the privacy to wrap up their conversation, let alone take care of the urgent need both of them were feeling.

As soon as he can slip away, he retreats to his box-like room, wishing there was a lot more distance between him and his guards. He flops on the bed, pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening his earlier text thread. 

 

                                             8:22pm: I’m sorry to abandon you like that.

Not for the first time on this enforced time off, Dean wish es  that he’d brought more to occupy his time. The safe house didn’t come equipped with Wi-Fi, he’d finished the book he brought with him, and there was no way in hell he was going to cozy up to the yahoos out in the living room. The text alert grabs his attention away from his moping. 

 

     8:24pm:  _ What part are you apologizing for? Leaving me? Or leaving me so fucking aroused that I had to keep my backpack in front of my crotch so I didn’t get tossed out of the cab? _

                                            8:25pm: Both. All of it. It was great to see you, but it was such a tease. I’m worse off now than I was this morning.

     8:25pm:  _ Does that mean that you haven’t taken care of yourself, Dean? _

                                            8:25pm: This is the first time I’ve been able to get away. You’d think they were paid to watch me or something. 

     8:26pm:  _ Are you alone now? _

Dean groans and  adjust s his cock, knowing exactly where this conversation is heading. He switches to the phone app, and clicks redial on Cas’s number. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas’s amused voice rattles in his ear. 

“Hey there, Cas.”

“Can I help you with something, sweetheart?”

“Stop teasing. You know exactly what you can help with.”

“No, I don’t think I do. Why don’t you tell me exactly what you want?”

“You can be such a shit, you know that?” 

The only response is a dark chuckle that sends a shiver down his spine. Deciding not to pull any punches, Dean confesses, “I’m so fucking hard for you, Cas. I can’t get you out of my mind. What we talked about earlier? Our bet? I want it. All of it.”

Cas purrs out a curse. “Goddamn, baby. I jerked off when I got home, and two minutes on the phone with you has me just as hot and bothered as before.”

Squeezing his erection, Dean asks, “Wanna get us off with that perfect phone sex voice?”

“Anything for you. Are you still dressed?”

“Yeah, just a second.” Dean whips the shirt over his head and kicks his sweatpants off in record time. He’s back on the phone, panting in moments. “Okay.”

“ Naked? ”

“ Completely .”

“ You have such a spectacular body, Dean. If I was there, I’d run my hands all over you, touching every inch of your skin. Since I’m not there, your hands are mine. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees.

“Run my fingers down your neck, across your collarbone and down your arm. Back and forth a few times.” 

Cas hears a sigh across the line. “Now over your nipples. I know how much you love them to be touched. Grab th e  left one and pinch. Roll it between my fingers.”

Another contented sound follows. “I love the noises you make for me. Do you want me to suck on them? Make them stiff and wet?”

“ Yes,” he moans, picturing how it would feel to have Cas bruising them with his mouth. “ Are you still dressed, Cas?”

“Not for long.” Dean can hear the whoosh of fabric over the phone.

“You’re so  fucking  sexy , Cas. I want to every memorize every line of your tattoos with my tongue.”

“Will  a picture  work for now ? ”

“You’d do that?  Christ,  yes.  I want to see you.  Please send one.” Dean is still tormenting his nipple, but his other hand slips down over his stomach. He won’t touch until Cas tells him, but he’s so ready.

When his text alert sounds in his ear, he pulls it away to look. “Fuck, Cas. That is...oh god, so gorgeous.” Cas on his knees, spread wide and looking down into the camera ; h is cock, fat and full,  is  curling  up towards his belly. 

Damn. This is his boyfriend. He’s unnaturally beautiful, and the look on his face reminds Dean of what Cas wants as his prize. He wants to dominate Dean, take control and possess him. That word has some dangerous connotations. Possess. Cas is extremely possessive, but it goes beyond the need to take him during sex. He wants Dean to feel owned, like he is a part of Cas and subject to his will. It sends a thrill of both excitement and fear up his spine and into his brain, igniting all of its pleasure centers.

“My imagination is good, Dean, but I’d love to be able to look into your eyes while I make you come. Will you send me one, too?”

A flush runs over his face and chest, but he agrees. “O-of course. What do you want to see?”

“Whatever you’re willing to show me, baby.” There’s a challenge in his voice, just a hint of mischief, but it’s enough to get Dean thinking. 

Cas loves his ass. He’s admitted that he’s obsessed with it, and Dean has seen ample proof  of that obsession . A sly grin overtakes him. “I have an idea, but it’s going to take a minute. Can you be patient, Cas?”

“For you? I can do just about anything,” he praises.

Dean quickly sets his camera up on the dresser, propped against his book. He gets the angle just right, and sets the auto timer. His breathing is getting hurried, he’s anxious about Cas’s reaction to what he’s going to send. When he reviews the shot, he chuckles. Cas is going to lose his mind. Even knowing that, he has to force himself to send it. It is by far the most vulnerable he’s ever been on film. 

“Okay, you should have it in a second. What do you want me to do?”

“Stroke your cock like I would, Dean; not to get off yet, just to build some urgency.”

Cas is lying comfortably in bed, lazily touching his own erection, when the text comes through. His jaw drops when he sees what Dean sent. Holy shit. It’s his every fantasy come true, better than any porn because it’s only for him. His wholesome, beautiful golden boy, on his hands and knees with his ass up and facing the camera. His face is looking at the camera over his shoulder, bottom lip between his teeth. The clencher, the thing that sends the picture from sweet to scorching hot is that Dean’s ass isn’t empty. His thumb is just barely dipped inside  the glistening hole , just a tease of being penetrated.

An inhuman sound of agonized lust rips from his throat, and he hears a soft laugh over the phone. “I thought you might like that, Cas ,” Dean teases.

“Fuck,” is about as eloquent as Cas can be. He’s shaking, and his brain is on fire. He knows that he can’t be with Dean right now, and it makes him ache; the need to feel those slender hips in his hands is so much worse  now , creating a tremble in his fingers that he can only still by making fists. “Fucking hell, Dean,” he practically whimpers. “I want you here with me, I want to lick and suck you open until you’re dripping.”

“Keep talking,” Dean urges, voice shaky and breathy. 

“Close your eyes, sweetheart. Focus on my words, how I’m making you feel.”

Dean responds with a hum of satisfaction. “You make me feel so good, Cas. Never this good before.”

“Open your mouth and slide your middle and ring fingers in along your tongue. Slowly. Suck on them and get them soaking wet while you keep stroking yourself.” When he can hear the faint suckling, he keeps talking. “When you’re ready, use them to tease over your sweet pink hole. Get it as wet as you can, like my tongue is getting you ready for me. ”

“Shit.  I wish it was you. I want you so bad, baby.”

“I know. I know. Me, too. I’m about one little moan away from coming to find you.”

Dean makes a sound of frustration. “Cas, I need you.”

“Okay, sweetheart. I had intended to take my time with you tonight, but...fuck. Th is  picture.” The reverence in Cas’s voice sends a shiver trip ping up Dean’s spine. “Push your finger in, let it slide in and out until it’s easy, until you need more to fill you. Let me know when you get there.”

Dean does as Cas commands, and with his eyes closed and Cas’s whiskey voice in his ear, he can almost pretend the finger deep in his ass is his. In no time, he whispers, “More. Please, more.”

“So obedient, sweetheart. We might be on to something with my suggestion earlier.”

“Yes,” Dean moans.

“Use both fingers now. Get that tight hole loosened up for my cock. I’m going to take you hard, Dean. I need to. There’s no way I could hold back after seeing this stunning picture.”

A high whine escapes his lips before the words, “Glad you liked it, Cas.” Dean’s breathing is rapid and breathy.

“Like isn’t even in the right ballpark. Every time I jack off, it will be to this picture. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” 

Dean is pumping his hips up into the fist around his cock and then down around the fingers slipping into his spit-wet ass. When they are buried deep, he grinds down on them, wanting more. Desperate for more.

“Oh fuck. Cas, it isn’t enough. I need yo u touching me, I can’t- ,” Dean begs.

Cas’s heart stutters in his chest, the sting of not having what he craves sharp. “You have me, I’m right here, baby.” Cas’s grip on his cock is  firm, trying to hold back the orgasm that Dean’s pleading voice is pulling from him.

“Please, Cas. Talk to me.”

Cas is panting, on the edge of release, but he wants Dean there first.  Swallowing around his constricted heart, he closes his eyes and pictures what he wants to do to Dean when they are finally face to face. “I have such plans for you, baby. When I get my hands on you, I’m going to need hours.”

“Yeah? What will you do?” Dean is three fingers deep, his cock leaking a steady dribble of sticky precum, but his body isn’t going to be appeased by anything less than Cas. 

“I’m going to fuck you full of my come and then I’m going to give you what you asked for last week.”

“What did I-”

“I’m going to plug that perfect little hole and keep every drop inside you.” 

The tenor of Dean’s voice tightens into a higher register, every breath leaking out aching sounds, “Yes, oh god, Cas. Yes, please, please... wanna  stay full”

“I’m going to fuck you over and over again, filling you and keeping it in until there’s no more room. Then, every time I push into you, it will have to gush out around my cock.”

“Yes, angel,” Dean moans.

“And in between, while we’re waiting for me to get hard again, I’m going to worship your body. I will taste, suck, and bite every part of you; I’ll know every cell. I’m going to take you apart so thoroughly that you’ll forget that there was ever a time when I didn’t have my mouth on you.”

“Oh, oh fuck...Cas...I’m...I’m so close.”

Cas resumes the long, even strokes that he knows will get him back to the edge that he’s fallen back from.  “I’ll have you in my throat when you come, but I’ll pull back just enough to taste you. Fuck, I want that right now. I fucking love the taste of you.”

It’s so bittersweet when they come. Cas’s heart hammers with the wrecked sounds across the distance, but he can’t see it. He can’t see the ecstasy on his face. He can’t enjoy the fucked out kisses that Dean loves so much. He can’t run his hands over his damp skin. 

“Fuck, I love your dirty mouth,” Dean pants. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Cas grins as he tries to catch his breath.

Silence envelopes both of their rooms. 

“I just came so hard that my vision whited-out, and I feel...hollow,” Dean admits, rubbing the center of his chest.

Cas sighs a few moments later. “I think it’s because we wanted to be together so badly, and it really sucks that we aren’t.”

Quietly, more of a whisper than actual speech, Dean confesses, “I’ve never felt like this before, Cas. It scares the shit out of me.”

Cas can relate. “I agree. It’s terrifying.” He swallows hard, trying to keep emotion out of his voice. “Do you want to...slow things -”

“Hell, no. Not even a little bit.” Dean can hear the surprise in Cas’s laugh. “Cas, I may be scared, but there’s nothing I want more than to see where this thing between us goes. It’s like stepping off a cliff, but I want to feel the fall.”

Cas is delighted by how vehemently Dean denies wanting distance. “So, you’re falling, huh?”

Dean clears his throat. “Well, I uh...um. I guess...”

“Take it easy, Dean. I am, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

Cas can almost feel Dean beaming over the phone. “I  gotta  admit, you’re the best adrenaline high I’ve ever had.”

“So, are you falling or are you high? I think you’re mixing your metaphors,” Cas teases.

Dean chuckles, “Fuck off.”

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore your comments. They make me happy. I'd love it if commented. 
> 
> Please and Thank You.
> 
> [Find me on Tumblr here](https://angelaland.tumblr.com)
> 
> Next chapter:  
> Dean's tattoo  
> "The Bet"  
> Lots of other fun...


	13. Dear Mr. Fantasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas face a couple of obstacles before they can be together again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening, my dears.
> 
> This week was hell on wheels, but I did manage to write a little bit in my 'free' time. That means that my house is a wreck and I don't give a shit, because - priorities.
> 
> So, I'm going to stop predicting what will happen in the next chapter, because every time I do, I make a liar out of myself. 
> 
> Dean's tattoo didn't happen, but it is happening on the next day in the story line, so I hope it will be the next chapter. Also, their bet will actually take place in the next chapter, so... we'll see who wins.

Dean hears the ping of his phone receiving a text and can’t help but smile. He’s come to associate the sound with Cas simply because of the number of texts that have been volleyed back and forth between them all week. Now, just that little electronic sound is enough to get his dick hard. Pavlov was a genius.

9:14am:  _ I had a dream about you last night. _

9:14am: Yeah? Was I naked? 

9:14am: Are you just now waking up?

9:15am:  _ Yes to both. Don’t judge. I was up late. _

9:15am: What was I doing?

9:15am:  _ Everything. It was like a montage of all of our sexual experiences in one long fuck.  _

9:16am: Boo. That’s vague.

9:16am:  _ It’s true, but if you’re looking for me to provide material to get you off? _

9:17am: You know me so well, Cas.

9:17am:  _ In the beginning, you were on your knees sucking my cock down your throat with some savage intensity. For whatever reason, we were at the gun range. I hit a perfect bullseye and you came.  _

9:19am: I think Freud would have something to say about that dream.

9:2 1 am:  _ Fuck Freud. You might be onto something, though. The next part was on the T, basically where we met, only the car was full like it was rush hour. I was sitting on the seat, fully-clothed except my fly was open and my cock was out. You were standing in front of me, completely naked and every eye was on you. Hungry. _

9:20am: And?

9:2 2 am:  _ Shit. Gabe’s back. I’ve got to run. Call you later? _

9:2 2 am: What?! NO! 

9:2 3 am: Do not leave me hanging like that!

9:2 5 am: Cas?

9:2 8 am: Fuck.

Dean thr ows  the phone on the couch beside him when he realize s  that Cas  i sn’t going to be continuing the story. Not now, anyway. He groan s  and pick s  up his coffee cup. It ’ s cold, but he  i s going to need the caffeine. He ha s  another pointless meeting with Detective Mills this afternoon, with a long stretch of nothingness in between. Christ, he  i s becoming a melancholy baby. 

He needs to get back to work. His boss had gladly given him the time off when he’d explained his situation , so there was no fear that he’d lose his job . It wasn’t that he needed to get back for monetary reasons, either. No, he needed the distraction that work had always provided for him. He needed his focus to be on other people, taking care of the ones that no one else cared for. It kept him balanced, particularly when his own life was so  far  out of balance.

He picked the phone back up, scrolling to the newly organized gallery of pictures. What else was he supposed to do with hours and hours of free time? Cas’s gallery was pitifully small, just a few pictures. How could he hold so many memories, know so much about him, feel so goddamned much...and only have six pictures? He frown s . He ha s  one other, but there  is  no way he  i s keeping that one in the regular gallery. That one  i s for his eyes only, and it only c omes  out for his viewing pleasure when he  i s alone.

His favorite picture, other than the hidden one, is the selfie he’d taken on the rooftop of the Envoy at sunset. Both of them are glowing in the golden light, Cas’s head tipped into his even while he was complaining about Dean taking the picture. He runs his finger down the lines of Cas’s face in the picture, stroking his sharp jaw and high cheekbones and wishing for the hundredth time this week that he was here. Spending  all of  last weekend together spoiled them both. 

“Aww. Looks like Winchester is missing his boyfriend.”

The obnoxious teasing from his police guards got old days ago. It’s juvenile locker room bullshit, bordering on homophobic, but they’re always careful to toe the line just on the right side of offensive. If Dean hadn’t been so confident in his sexuality, it would have rattled him. But he’s been out publicly, unrepentantly, for ten years. Nothing this guy can throw at him is going to trip him up. Dean, however, has ammunition for days to make them squirm. 

“Well, Cooper, not all of us are lucky enough to work with our boyfriends like you are.”

The two officers look at each other and quickly away. Dean notices the flush that moves over Kowalski’s cheeks even as Cooper pops off again. “That’s hilarious. We don’t bat for your team and you know it.”

Dean scrutinizes them both and asks, “You sure about that, Coop?”

Leaving the question heavy in the air, he grabs his phone and coffee mug and heads to get a refill. Of course, the pot is empty. Dean mutters an obscenity and turns  it  off. It isn’t worth making a new pot this late in the morning, even if it would burn some time. Sighing, he goes back out to the living room, noticing the tension in the air. He makes a note not to tease Kowalski anymore. He recognizes that look full of confusion and shame. Poor guy. He can’t imagine still trying to come to terms with his sexuality in his thirties. 

“I need to run some errands. Which one of you wants to take me?”

“We’re not supposed to-”

“Yeah, yeah. How about we skip the recitation of the rules ?  We all know that I’ve convinced all of my protective details to take me out in public.”

“We’re not all slackers. Some of us can follow orders.” Cooper is apparently still pouting. 

Dean rolls his eyes and appeals to Kowalski. “Don’t you want to get some fresh air? Break the monotony? It could actually make you more alert  in the long run .”

Kowalski is a good looking guy. He’s taller than Dean, with blonde hair and chocolate brown eyes. He obviously works out because his arms are straining against the sleeves of his shirt. His observations are being returned; the officer is checking him out. Dean knows that he shouldn’t flirt to get what he wants, but he needs to get out of here. He has cabin fever, but more importantly, he wants to get something for Cas before he sees him again. Considering there’s been no news about Michael and the week is almost up, that day might be sooner rather than later. Anticipation leaps through his nervous system. His fingers itch at the thought of touching his skin. 

Dean  lays his most charming smile on the man, eyes cast down and looking up through his lashes. “Please? Just for an hour or so?”

He huffs in annoyance, but agrees. “An hour. That’s it.”

He is blinded by Dean’s happy smile. “I promise. Thanks,  Kowalski .”

The man clears his throat as he stands. “It’s, uh. It’s Bart.”

Dean feels a twinge of guilt at the hopeful look in the man’s eyes. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Bart.”

*****

Once they leave the massive art supply store, Dean convinces his police escort to stop for lunch at one of his favorite restaurants in the area. Publico Street Bistro is one of the unique little places opening up as the area gentrifies, which is more than enough reason for Dean to be in agreement with revitalizing the area. In just the past two years, the restaurants in the area have exploded with creative, delicious menus. The Latin American cuisine at Publico is amazing, reminding Dean of his latest vacation to the Caribbean island of Cozumel. As soon as he sees the sign, his mouth is watering for Chilaquiles. 

They sit in the outdoor seating area, enjoying the warm breeze on the patio. Bart looks at the menu with fear in his eyes. 

“It won’t bite, dude,” Dean teases to get him to relax.

“I’m not so sure.”

“Tell me what you like, I can help you order. I’ve had almost everything.” Dean didn’t mean the words to sound suggestive, but the look in the other man’s eyes says that he took it that way.  Dean  tries not to look visibly annoyed. He realizes that he’s probably one of the few openly gay men that Bart has ever had the opportunity to interact with, and he doesn’t want to squash that curiosity. It doesn’t mean that he’s going to encourage the flirtation, though. He only has eyes for Cas.

“I’m a meat and potatoes guy, I guess.”

Dean smiles at him and nods. “We’ve come to the right place.”

*****

Cas and Gabe are walking down Dorchester St. on their way back from meeting Gabe’s cousin. The cousin that Gabe said had an entry-level position for him at his graphic design company.  Apparently, entry-level meant literally that. The job was for a receptionist, and apparently Cas’s look is a little too intimidating for the front door. He did ask to see Cas’s portfolio, so the lead isn’t completely a dead end.

Cas is interested in a legitimate job, despite the constant irritating chatter from Gabe and Cole, because he understands that he can’t keep doing what he’s been doing his whole life. Without needing to have the conversation, he knows that Dean would not approve of his illegal jobs. Therefore, he needs to find another path.

If he’s honest, he is looking forward to earning money honestly, becoming a man worthy of his gorgeous boyfriend. Dean might be the impetus, but it’s something he’s been wanting to change for a long time. Without an urgent need, though, he kept putting the idea at the back of his mind. He’s not looking forward to forty hour work weeks, losing all of that time that he could be spending in much more satisfying ways. He’s  also  not looking forward to having to play nice with others. It’s why he’s never held a job for more than a couple months.

His thoughts are interrupted when Gabe stops short. He’s squinting, looking down the street. “Hey, isn’t that your fuck buddy?”

Cas scowls and slaps the back of his head. “His name is Dean, and no, it can’t be him. He’s in protective custody.”

“You sure?” Gabe raises an eyebrow. As their feet bring them closer, Cas watches the man in question , even though his face is mostly turned away .  Seeing  just a few of his gestures,  Cas knows that indeed it is Dean. He’d recognize the way he moves anywhere, from any distance. Confusion clouds his brain, and he tries to make sense of the scene in front of him. Dean is sitting with another man, an incredibly built, good-looking man. They are eating out on the patio, in plain sight. Did they catch Michael? Are their worries over? 

Cas checks his phone, knowing that Dean would have texted at the very least if that was the case. Nothing. No call, either. He looks back to the patio table, quietly taking in details. Dean is enjoying his meal, closing his eyes and savoring the food. Based on the many meals Cas has shared with him, he’s probably making obscene groans with each bite. His eyes shift to Dean’s companion. It isn’t surprising to see the man looking at Dean with obvious appreciation, but it still incites him to violent intent. He can feel anger creep up his neck, tightening his shoulders, jaw, and fists. 

When the man leans in closer, touching Dean’s arm, Cas’s feet start moving. Gabe reaches out to stop him, and Cas shoves him away. Gabe curses and gets ahead of him. Putting himself in Cas’s path is risky at best, but he wants to talk sense into him before he lets his emotions have free rein. He’s seen the aftermath of that particular brand of bad idea, and he isn’t fond of the idea of spending the night in jail when Cas goes berserker on this guy.

“Cas, you don’t know what’s going on. Let him explain before you go in guns blazing.”

Cas is seething now, eyes laser-focused on his target. He talks through a clenched jaw, “He’s touching Dean,” as if that’s all the explanation he needs to burn down the world.

“Do you know him?”

“No.”

“So, he could be a cop. Right? You can’t touch him, man.”

“If he doesn’t keep his hands to himself, I don’t have to, either.”

Gabe sighs. He really hopes that Dean isn’t here on a date. If the guy is cheating on Cas, this is going to end gruesome. “Cas, that isn’t the way it works and you know it. You don’t want to go to jail. Who would protect Dean then?”

It’s a cheap shot, but it seems to break through the red haze. Cas furrows his brow and finally looks at Gabe. “You good?”

Cas nods and then continues toward the restaurant. He is just a few feet away when the insolent fuck dares to touch Dean’s face. He is gratified when Dean immediately bats the hand away. Though the words are spoken kindly, he does warn him away. 

When Bart tries to swipe away the salsa that escaped Dean’s mouth, he instinctively knocks his hand away. “Hey, don’t do that.”

The deep rumbling voice of his dreams, the one that can calm him or bring him to orgasm, whichever he chooses, sounds from a few feet away. “I’d listen to him. I hear his boyfriend is the jealous type.”

Dean smiles over his shoulder at Cas, but he’s not looking. Instead, his glare is entirely focused on Bart. He waits, but Cas remains aloof and distant. In the meantime, he pulls up a chair from the next table and sits down. Dean puts his hand on Cas’s arm to get his attention, but it is ignored. “It’s good to see you,” he says anyway. Cas stiffens, but again, doesn’t respond. He’s watching the other man’s face closely.  Bart  looks confused, eyes bouncing between the other men.

“We haven’t met. I’m  Castiel .”

Understanding dawns. “Oh, Novak. Right. Nice to meet you. I’m Bart Kowalski, one of his guards.” He extends his hand, but the gesture isn’t returned. 

“Oh, so you have heard of me. I guess that’s good. At least he’s mentioned me.” The tone sounds almost friendly, but Dean knows better. Cas is pissed. He’s holding himself rigidly, predatorily still.

“Of course, man. He talks about you all the time.” Bart smiles, not catching the danger in Cas’s eyes.

“Has he told you that we’re dating?”

“Yes, of course.”

Cas nods subtly, tilting his head just a touch. “So, do you make it a habit to hit on men who are in relationships?”

Bart’s mouth gapes like a cod. “ Wh -I don’t- I wasn’t”

“Or was he encouraging the attention?” Now Cas looks at Dean, accusation clear. “I know how impossible he is to resist.”

“No, of course not!

They talk over each other. “Cas, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?” 

Dean pleads with his eyes, squeezing his arm gently.

Cas leans forward, tone vicious yet quiet. “I’ll tell you what’s ridiculous, Dean. I haven’t been allowed to see you but once all week. I understood because you were doing what you needed to do to stay safe. But this? It’s like you’re flaunting yourself, daring Michael to find you.”

Dean looks suitably chastised, but Cas’s anger isn’t assuaged. Not by a long shot. Eyes snapping fire, he turns on Kowalski. “A trained police officer should know better, so I can only assume that he somehow weaseled his way under your defenses. I saw the way you were looking at him. You want him.”

Bart flushes, looking around at the other tables surreptitiously. 

“Cas, that’s enough.” 

The smile he receives is nasty. “Sticking up for your new crush, Dean?”

Dean’s had it. He stands and leans down to Cas’s ear. Whispering quietly, he gives Cas an ultimatum. “Bathroom. Now.”

“We’ll be right back,” he tells Kowalski, and then leaves without looking behind him. 

After a minute, Cas stands slowly. His eyes stay on the other man, who has the good sense to look nervous now. Cas towers over him and snarls, “Lay another finger on him, and I’ll rip your spine out through your mouth.”

All the way through the restaurant, Cas’s brain fires off validation for every fear he has ever had. Dean belongs with someone like Bart. They would  be great  together. Cas isn’t good enough. He’s going to ruin Dean. Dean will realize that he’s not good enough and he’ll leave. Cas will be alone. After something this perfect, he can’t be alone again. It will destroy him. He can’t lose Dean. Dean is everything he’s ever wanted. He’s going to leave because Cas is being  a jealous asshole .

By the time he opens the door to the bathroom, his breathing is erratic and his hands are shaking. Dean is standing with his hands on his hips, storm clouds brewing over his head. “What the fuck, Cas?”

Before Dean can take another breath, Cas shoves him into the wall and crowds him in. “I could ask the same of you. I catch you on a date and you have the nerve to question me?”

“This is not a date. I convinced him to let me run a quick errand, something for you, by the way, and we stopped to eat because I was craving the food here. We were going to go back to the safe house as soon as we were done.”

Dean can tell that Cas isn’t really registering his words. His eyes are wide and panicky, breathing harsh. “I-I don’t share. I told you. He can’t. He can’t have you.”

Dean runs his hand up to Cas’s shoulder, trying to soothe him. “No, he can’t have me. I don’t want him.”

“You’re mine,” Cas growls, as his hand slides up to Dean’s neck. Dean’s seen a lot of emotions on Cas’s face, but the fear that is there now makes his heart hurt. He has to convince Cas that he is totally committed. He is the only man that exists for Dean. Dean puts his hand on top of Cas’s and squeezes, forcing him to clamp down on the fragile neck beneath his fingers. Dean whispers, “I’m yours. Only yours.”

Dean goes pliant under Cas’s hands, one holding him up and one stealing his breath. Cas tightens the grip until he feels Dean struggle to draw air in. Dean continues to look at him with complete trust and affection. 

“You aren’t leaving me?”

Dean licks his lips, “No. Never.”

Cas tries to loosen his hold, but Dean has other ideas. He pushes harder, forcing Cas’s fingertips into his carotid arteries and the webbing of his thumb against his windpipe. Dean’s face is flushing, his pulse is racing, and he still tightens his grip. With his other hand, he pulls Cas against him to brush their hips together. Dean is hard; his pupils are dilated. Cas gets lost in the lust-filled eyes, leaning in to touch their lips together. Pulling back, glassy eyes smile back at him, unfocused and hazy. He mouths, “Always yours,” to Cas. 

The door to the bathroom slams open, and Kowalski is there, reaching for his gun. Gabe is right behind him, trying to get between him and the men inside. 

Dean holds his hand up, trying to signal that he’s okay. Cas snarls, “Get the fuck out.”

“Let go of him,” Kowalski counters. When no one moves, the hammer of the gun cocks, and Dean finally releases Cas’s hand. He takes a deep breath and then speaks. “You heard him, Bart. Get out.”

“No fucking way. I’m responsible for your safety, Winchester.”

“I’m fine. We’re just talking. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“He was choking the life out of you. There’s no way I’m leaving you with him.”

“No, he wasn’t...that wasn’t what was-”

“Not. Leaving.” Bart grits out through his teeth. 

Gabe can see a few ways that this scenario could play out, and none of them are good. He needs to get Cas out of the room and away from the police officer who’s ready to fill him full of holes. It’s surprisingly easy because Cas lets go of Dean and steps back, eyes averted. 

Dean tries to follow, but Cas keeps him at an arm’s length. He looks utterly defeated in that moment, and Dean doesn’t know what changed. He thought that he’d gotten through to him, that their misunderstanding was over. Now, he isn’t sure. He tries to take Cas’s hand, but he pulls away. 

Gabe takes the opportunity to break the silence. “Let’s take off, Cas. You can call later.”  Cas follows him through the door, not looking back.

“Cas?” Dean calls after him. He steps into the doorway, batting Bart’s gun out of the way. They’re gone. 

*****

Dean refused to speak all the way back to the safe house. He put in his earbuds and drowned out any hope of conversation. He didn’t blame Kowalski. Not really. It probably looked bad from an outsider’s perspective. Angry, jealous boyfriend pins him against the wall by his throat. Yeah, he can see why his guard overreacted. 

Dean’s thoughts keep creeping back to Cas’s hand squeezing around him. He hadn’t thought that he would enjoy it so much, or at all. He honestly was just looking for a way to show Cas that he trusted him, that nothing had changed between them. Feeling the thrill of losing control and the giddiness of losing oxygen were unexpected. Getting hard and achy from being choked? Total surprise. Dean can’t wait to follow up on that kink. 

Dean groans. He’s still holed up in a safe house , and Cas won’t answer his calls. He wishes that he knew Gabe’s number, just so he could check in. For the hundredth time, he looks at the time. Mills is due any minute, but he’s about to come unglued. He’s already packed his bag, and checked every area of the house where he might have left something. He’s ready to walk out the door unless she can give him a compelling reason not to. 

She can’t. Despite all of her pleading, her warnings, and her worried expressions, she can’t tell him with any certainty where Michael is and that he would be safer here than just going about his regular life. So, that’s what he’s going to do. He thanks her for her time and shakes her hand. He promises to keep in touch, especially if anything feels ‘off’. He is practically giddy with relief at knowing that he is getting out of this house.

Kowalski follows him to his room when he collects his bag, standing just inside the doorway. “Are you going to him?”

Dean sighs. “Yeah, if he’ll talk to me. He’s not answering my calls.”

The officer fidgets, obviously wanting to say more. Dean drops the bag and crosses his arms over his chest. “Spit it out, Bart.”

“I just...why would you go back to him after he did that to you?”

“Did what?” Dean is genuinely confused. 

“Choked you.” He is obviously not expecting Dean to laugh, and his body language stiffens at being mocked. “He could have killed you, Winchester.”

Dean puts out a conciliatory hand. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. If I was in danger, I wouldn’t be laughing. But I wasn’t. Like, at all.” Bart squints at him, but it is obvious that he is not picking up the subtext. Dean sighs. He really doesn’t want to discuss his kinks with anyone other than the one participating in them with him, but he also doesn’t like the idea that Bart thinks that Cas is dangerous.  “I know you couldn’t tell from your perspective, but my hand on his was the one putting all of the pressure on my neck.”

Bart still isn’t getting it. Dean clears his throat and scratches a thumb across his forehead. “Uh, tell you what. Why don’t you google erotic asphyxiation and that should explain enough.” Bart’s jaw drops as Dean leaves the room with a pat on his shoulder. He hears the man ask incredulously, “It’s a sex thing?”

“There it is!” he praises as he enters the living room. He claps his hands together, looking around with gleeful eyes and a jaunty smirk, “Okay, who’s my ride?”

“I’ll take you home, against my better judgement,” Mills sighs. 

Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he asks, “Can you take me somewhere else instead?”

The detective rolls her eyes but nods. “You know that  Castiel  probably doesn’t want me to know where he lives, right?”

“He won’t care. It’s not like you couldn’t look him up in your fancy database anyway.”

“True, but I want to talk to him, too, which means I’m going to be at his door.”

Dean chuckles. “Well, honestly, I’m on his shit list right now, so it might actually be a good idea to have the police nearby.”

*****

Castiel  paces through the living room again, both fists in his hair. Cole watches in his peripheral vision, but knows better than to bring it up. He hasn’t ever seen him this agitated, and Gabriel isn’t talking. Something happened while they were out, and it’s sent Cas spinning out. He’s about to ask Cas if he wants to go grab a drink when there is an insistent knock at the door. 

Since Cas is closest, he opens the door. When he sees the dark-haired woman on the other side, he practically crumples and takes a few steps back. “No, no, no,” he moans while shaking his head. “He-he has to be okay. I just saw him.” 

The lady seems to understand his weird behavior. “Oh no!  Castiel , Dean’s fine. He’s getting his stuff out of my car. I wanted to talk to you for a minute. That’s all.”

“Dean’s here?”

She squints her eyes. “Yes, is that okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

When his boyfriend appears around the corner, Cas finally breathes. Dean’s eyes are downcast, his movements hesitant. He finally looks up. “Hey, Cas.”

Cas tugs on his arm, yanking him into the apartment and into his arms. His hands wrap around Dean, holding his waist and head to him. For several moments, they just breathe each other in. Then, Cas speaks quietly, “I’m so sorry for acting like such a jealous asshole earlier.”

Dean pulls back  only  far enough to grin at him. “It didn’t really bother me. I already knew how possessive you are. It wasn’t a huge leap from there to jealous. ” He bites his bottom lip, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. “ It was actually kind of hot.”

Cas scowls at him, “Then why did you drag me away to talk?”

“You were scaring the shit out of that poor guy. He’s so far in the closet that you’re probably the first person to ever accuse him of hitting on a man. And you’re pretty fucking intimidating, if you’ve forgotten.”

Cas does his head tilt, which Dean will never not find adorable, as he processes. His brow furrows with pain. “He thought I was hurting you.”

Dean bumps his head into Cas’s affectionately. “I cleared that up before I left. He knows what was going on now. He’d never heard of that being a...”

“Kink?” The knowing look on Cas’s face says everything. He not only noticed Dean’s excitement earlier, he plans to bring this new kink out to play again soon. Dean licks his lips, eyes dropping with desire.  

“Yeah, he wasn’t the only one taken by surprise.”

“No, he wasn’t,” Cas confirms, wolfish smile sliding into place.

“Okay,” Mills interrupts. “I can see that you’re about ten seconds away from being lost to the rest of the world, so let me say my piece and escape before I need brain bleach.”

“Sure thing, Detective,” Dean says, but keeps his eyes on Cas.

“Castiel, he’s going to lie to you and tell you that everything is fine. It’s not. Nothing’s changed. Don’t let him blow sunshine up your ass.”

With a cheeky grin, Dean corrects, “Actually, I’m usually the one who has things up-”

“Dean!”

“Sorry.” He isn’t. 

Mills clears her throat and continues. “I’ve recommended that he not be alone at any time, for any reason, since he’s refusing police protection. We don’t have any idea of where Boyar is or what he’s planning.”

“I’ll keep him protected,” Cas agrees. 

“Alright then.” She looks them over and gives them a soft smile. “Take care of each other.”

When they shut the door behind her, Cas and Dean get lost in each other’s eyes. They don’t speak, just eventually lean in and brush their lips together. The soft touch uncovers the banked fire of their lust for each other, exposing the burning embers beneath. Kiss by kiss, the need builds. Delicately at first, but becoming more intense with each shared breath. 

Cas can’t help but lick into Dean’s mouth, chasing his sweet taste. Their tongues meet and caress, as if they too were affected by their absence from each other. Hands grip, bodies are pulled closer, teeth nip at everything in their reach. Dean sighs into Cas’s mouth, enjoying the sensual teasing that he’s missed so much all week. He could spend the next week doing nothing but this: kissing, licking, sucking. 

“Don’t mind us,” Gabe snarks at them. “We’re totally fine with you consuming each other right here in the living room.”

Cas doesn’t acknowledge him at all. Dean’s only effort is to flip him off before he moves the hand into Cas’s inky hair.

Cole snorts out a laugh from his place on the couch, “I don’t know why you care if they’re in here or in Cas’s room. It’s not like we aren’t going to hear every fucking thing that goes on in there anyway.”

Gabe concedes his point and then asks, “ Wanna  go get some dinner somewhere that’s not here?”

“Absolutely. I’ll go grab my wallet.”

Cas does pull away from Dean for a second then. “If you get the fuck out now, I’ll pay.”

He goes back for a deep, luxurious kiss. Dean pulls away after a minute. “If you stay gone until at least midnight, I’ll pay for drinks.”

Gabe pats him on the back on their way out the door. “I knew I liked you, Dean. Glad to have you back.”

When they pull back to breathe again, Cas looks around, listening. “Whoever said ‘silence is golden’ was a genius.”

“ Mmm . Let’s take this back to your room. I have a week of touching you to catch up on.”

They undress sweet and slow, only separating to pull clothes out of their way. In just a week, Cas has forgotten how beautifully responsive and vocal Dean is, how he gasps at every touch, moans with every kiss, hisses with every bite. Dean holds nothing back, wears every emotion on his face and in his fingers and mouth. 

After securing Cas’s permission, Dean lays him down on the bed and connects his phone to Cas’s speaker. The opening strains of  _ Whiter Shade of Pale _  play through the room, and Cas can’t help feel out of his element. 

“What is this, Dean? Are you trying to seduce me?”

Dean crawls onto the bed, hovering over his body, and holding Cas with his gaze. “Something like that. Just setting the mood.”

“And what mood is that?”

Dean leans down to plant a sweet kiss to Cas’s forehead. “Reverence.” He kisses Cas’s lips, brow furrowing with the emotion welling up in his heart. “Adoration,” he whispers by his ear. Cas tenses and then exhales, going more pliant. A lick under the bolt of Cas’s jaw pulls a moan from him. Dean smiles and says, “Appreciation.”

He makes eye contact and asks, “Can I touch you, Cas?”

Cas nods, feeling too unmoored by Dean’s gentle treatment to trust his voice. 

Dean’s fingers flex, wanting to touch every bit of the perfect canvas under him. Straddling his body, using just a middle finger, he dips into the hollow of Cas’s throat and then across his collar bone and down across his chest. Their eyes meet again. “I’ve been dying to get my hands on you. I really didn’t know if you’d ever let me.”

“It’s getting easier. I’m still jumpy if anyone else touches me, but I actually like it when you do.”

“So if I wanted to spend the next hour or so just touching you, you’d let me?”

Cas clears his throat. Dean can see the discomfort there, but he’s curious to know what part of Cas will win out; his fears or his desires. 

“Sure. I think you’ll get bored before an hour’s up, anyway.” The corners of his mouth lift with humor.

 The challenge lights up Dean’s expression. He makes a disapproving sound at Cas and his disbelief. “Let’s make it two.”

Good as his word, Dean runs through an entire playlist while worshiping Cas’s body. Otis Redding, Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, and Van Morrison serenade his adoring attentions. He traces every tattooed line, kisses every inch of the inked skin. He spends so long running his fingers over the lines in Cas’s palms that he almost asks if he can read them. Finally, Dean places a tender kiss in the center of each one. 

“You still with me?” Dean asks. Cas is breathing heavily, looking up at the ceiling, but he nods. Dean crawls up to look into his face. Shiny blue looks back at him. “Am I overwhelming you, baby?”

Cas swallows and blinks a few times. He doesn’t understand this feeling. He feels invincible and also like he wants to curl up and cry. He wants to wrap himself around Dean and never let go. 

Dean rests his hand over Cas’s heart, and Cas covers it with his own. No more words pass between them, but Dean hopes that Cas can feel what he is trying to convey. He’s terrible with words; he’s always been a man of action. He can’t force the words out, not yet, but he can let Cas have all of his actions. He can worship the man he loves with his body. 

“Can I keep going? I still have a lot of skin I haven’t touched.” Dean looks pointedly to Cas’s groin, where his cock is hovering in a state of half-arousal. 

Cas sucks in a deep breath and exhales. “As long as you remember that turnabout is fair play. ”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Dean grins and kisses down his body.

 

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are like manna from heaven...
> 
> [Find me on Tumblr here](https://angelaland.tumblr.com)


	14. Soul Searching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confessions are made and Dean gets his tattoo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, 
> 
> This chapter is on the long side, but it's full of character development and plot.  
> And lots of smuttiness. Let's just say that they really, really missed each other.
> 
> Notes: Cas mentions a notorious crime family in South Boston called the Winter Hill Gang. Their leader (recently) was Whitey Bulger.

Dean wakes in the night, blinking owlishly at the bedside lamp that is still on. Cas isn’t beside him, but he feels his presence. Propping himself up on his elbows to look around, he finds Cas sitting cross-legged at the far corner of the bed. A sketchbook is in his lap, but he’s not drawing. Instead, his hands bracket the book like he’s receiving divine revelation. 

“Cas,” he calls. Brooding eyes come up to meet his. “Why are you up? What’s wrong?” 

The furrow in his brow speaks a wealth of sadness and regrets. “You shouldn’t be here, laying on this broken-down mattress in a fucking hovel. You are too good for this.” 

Dean sits up and crawls over, curling up against Cas’s side. He nuzzles against his jaw. “I am exactly where I want to be, Cas.” 

Cas scowls, but kisses his temple. “I’m beginning to think you might be a masochist.” 

Scoffing, Dean rolls his eyes. “Why, because I want to be here with you?” 

The look in Cas’s eyes has Dean sucking in a surprised breath. Oh god, Cas. Dean takes the sketchbook out of his clenched hands and sets it aside gently. His body replaces the book in Cas’s lap, sinking down to connect head to head, chest to chest, cock to cock. “That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t think you deserve to have this?” His words are spoken quietly, as if they can be less intrusive, less raw if they are subdued. 

Cas coasts his hands over Dean’s hips, looking up at his face like a supplicant. “I don’t deserve you.” 

“Yes, Cas. Yes, you do. Whatever you want, you deserve to have it. If it’s me that you want, then I consider myself incredibly lucky.” Dean dips his head to take tenderness from his lips. They trade soft, silent kisses, starting the inexorable climb to lust when Cas suddenly breaks away and ducks his head. 

Before Dean can question him, he admits, “There’s a lot about me that you don’t know, Dean. I feel like you should get a peek into the closet before you just accept the skeletons that are piled up in there.” 

“So is this show and tell time?” Without looking up, Cas nods. 

Dean sighs. “I think this is a conversation for pants. Yes?” More nodding. Dean slides off his lap reluctantly, but grabs his boxers from the pile on the floor. Cas does the same, and they meet in the middle of Cas’s bed, facing each other tensely. 

Dean is as nervous as Cas appears to be, anticipation and downright dread making the back of his throat tingle. This is the moment when their burgeoning relationship could end. Cas might say some things that Dean just can’t accept. For the first time, he wishes that he had peeked at his rap sheet so that he would be prepared for what is coming. He sends up a prayer that Cas’s need for honesty is a good sign. 

Clearing his throat to prevent his heart from escaping, Cas begins. “I’m just going to tell the whole story so you can maybe...see things from my perspective?” Dean gives an encouraging smile. 

“You know I’m an orphan, that my mom died. She was a junkie, and she overdosed when I was a week or two old. I was born in the crack den where she died.” 

When he meets Dean’s eye, his gaze is steady; sad but not pitying. “I immediately went into the system because she didn’t have family, either. I was at an orphanage for most of my childhood, and they were severely understaffed. Babies were not held unless they cried, and apparently, I hardly ever cried.” 

Dean feels like his heart is being crushed under the weight of what Cas has endured. Babies are pure innocence, sweet perfection. How is it possible that this beautiful man was not given the bare minimum of love and affection when he needed it most? Dean rages internally at the injustice of Cas being unwanted and discarded as an infant. He would give anything to be able to go back in time, scoop up the tiny baby and shower him with love, give him the childhood he deserved. 

Cas sees how hard Dean is fighting to keep his emotional response at bay. Warmth spreads through him to see it. He takes Dean’s hand, rubbing it soothingly with his thumbs. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I made it.” 

“You shouldn’t have had to-” Dean’s voice cracks. He looks away to pull himself together. “Sorry. Continue, please.” 

Cas kisses his hand. “I had mostly shitty foster homes. You know the kind. They only take in kids to get money from the state.” The tightening in Dean’s jaw tells him that he does indeed know the kind. 

“I was done with the system by the time I was fourteen, and I ended up on the streets. I’m sure you’ve seen enough similar cases to know that there isn’t much legal work for kids that young.” 

Dean is all too aware. It is the driving force of his apprenticeship program. These kids need jobs and they need someone to care about what happens to them. Just like Sam. Just like Cas. 

“So, I learned to pickpocket; I learned to be a really good little thief. When I got a little older, I learned to earn on my knees.” 

Dean closes his eyes, trying to block out the sharp edges of what he hears; lets the pain of hearing it leak from under his lashes. When Cas wipes it away on the pad of his thumb, Dean whispers, “I am so sorry, Cas.” 

Cas doesn’t have words to acknowledge his sympathy, so he simply continues his story. “That didn’t last too long, though, because I got really good with my fists. I was a fearless little thing, so I caught the attention of some of Bulger’s guys.” 

“Oh fuck,” Dean sighs. 

“Yeah. I was never completely under the protection of Winter Hill, but I did work for them on the outskirts. They tried to bring me in, make me official, but even as the dumbass kid I was, I saw what a monumentally bad idea that was.” 

“It must have been hard to pass up such a lucrative life,” Dean admires. “I doubt the alternatives were easy.” 

Cas gives him a sad smile. “No, they weren’t. Money has never come easy, and it’s hardly ever come legally. That’s what I really needed you to know. With your background and your particular career path, you need to know who you’re in bed with. Literally.” 

Dean stops to process what Cas is telling him. He needs to be smart about this, despite how his heart feels. “Can I ask some follow up questions?” 

“Of course.” Cas is shaking, his soul laid bare on the bed in front of Dean like a worthless offering. 

“The thievery. Is that still going on?” 

Cas swallows hard. His pulse racing. “Not anymore. I’m looking for a job, but I haven’t found anything full-time yet.” 

“Are you involved in any criminal activity right now?” 

“No, and I won’t be. I’m done.” 

"Are there any felony convictions on your record?"

"Just one when I was a minor Served time in juvie."

Dean nods thoughtfully. “I understand what you’ve told me about your past, and I would never condemn you for what you’ve had to do to survive. But you need to know that it’s a deal breaker for me. I can’t be involved with any criminal activity, even by association. You understand, right? I work with kids, so I have to be above reproach. I could lose my career; I could lose everything.” 

“I figured as much.” 

“So, as long as you promise me that it’s not still going on, we’re good.” 

Cas can’t believe his luck. “That’s it? You’re fine with everything I just told you?” 

Dean smiles. “Well, I’m not fine with your childhood being such a shitshow. But like I said, I’m not here to point fingers or lay blame. You survived, Cas. No matter what you had to do to get here, I’m glad you did.” 

Cas is staring, gob-smacked. After a long moment, he launches himself at Dean, taking him down to the bed in a fury of hands, lips, and tongue. “How are you even real?” 

They are getting caught up in the moment and going breathless until Cas uses his roaming hands to stretch Dean's arms over his head. When they fully extend, they bump into the abandoned sketchbook, tipping it over onto his face. Dean chuckles and lifts it up to be able to see it properly. 

Cas had been sketching him, asleep and posed, but in the most beautiful setting. There are tall columns on either side of him, a reflecting pool in front of him, and a breathtaking landscape of waterfalls cascading from rugged mountains behind him. Even in black and white, his eye can fill in vivid color where it should be. 

“Cas, this is amazing.” 

“Mmm. I had a gorgeous subject.” Cas kisses down his neck, trying to incite him to return his affections. 

“It reminds me of that Ecstasy artist from MFA.” 

“Maxfield Parrish?” 

“Yeah, it feels similar. Wild. Free.” 

Cas hooks his head on Dean’s shoulder. “You have quite an eye, Dean.” 

Dean jerks suddenly. “Oh, shit. I almost forgot. I have something for you.” 

He gets up and grabs his bag, digging around in the bottom. With a shy look, he says, “I didn’t have time to wrap it, but the last time I was here, I noticed that your colored pencils were almost gone.” 

Dean hands him a large metal tin of Prismacolors, artist quality pencils that Cas has never been able to afford. He opens the tin to see a technicolor gradient of hues. The tin is deep, with several trays stacked beneath this one. His fingers run over the beveled tips, crisp and sharp. “This is too much, Dean.” 

Dean grins, “Oh, then you’re probably not going to like the rest.” 

Cas looks up to see Dean holding out a heavy leather pencil roll. “It can’t hold all of those colors, but I thought it might be good to travel with. You can keep all your sketching stuff in the pockets along with your favorite colors?” 

Dean looks hesitant, as if he isn’t sure if Cas will like it. How could Cas do anything but love it? Dean doesn’t know that it’s one of only a handful of gifts that Cas has ever received, and that fact alone makes it unique and special. On top of that, they’re things he’s always wanted, which means that Dean is paying close attention to him and his interests. That is enough of a present on its own. When Cas runs his fingers over it, it reminds him of a worn-in baseball glove. The leather is supple and smells divine. “You like it?” 

“It’s-it’s perfect.” Cas smiles warmly, but then cocks his head to the side. “But, why? Why did you get me a present?” 

Dean shrugs. “I just wanted to do something nice for you. You’ve gone way above and beyond for me during this whole debacle, and I guess I wanted to say thank you.” 

Cas smirks. “So I stalk you and I get gifts?” 

Dean gives him a sheepish look. “We both know that you weren’t stalking me, but I do need to tell you something.” 

Cas’s face falls. “What?” 

“I told you about that meeting in my dad’s office? The sneak attack?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Well, I had to work hard to dissuade them away from a theory they had going into it. About you.” 

Cas sighs and runs his hand through his hair, causing it to stick up in every conceivable direction. Dean finds it adorable and quirks a smile. 

“Well, let’s hear it.” 

“What? Oh. They thought you were working with Michael, trying to lure me in. I told them that were ridiculous and explained all the reasons why it wasn’t possible.” 

The head tilt and squinty eyes make Dean smile even more. “Why would I try to warn them if I was involved?” 

“That’s what I told them. They, uh. They were trying to use your...colorful past as evidence.” 

All of the color drains from Cas’s face. “So, you already knew about my past. You could have saved me a lot of heartache and not made me tell you my whole sob story.” 

Dean is shaking his head no before his words are out. “No, Cas. I didn’t look at your rap sheet, and I wouldn’t let them tell me anything.” 

“You had it there in front of you and you didn’t look?” 

Dean is horrified. “Fuck no. I wouldn’t invade your privacy like that.” 

“You really are a choir boy, aren’t you?” 

“Blow me, Cas.” 

Devilish intent lights in his deep blue eyes. “I just did that a few hours ago. I’d really like to fuck you instead. Is that offer on the table?” 

He sets his presents and the sketchbook away from the bed and crawls toward Dean, languid and greedy. Dean leans back on his hands and crosses his legs out in front of him, patiently waiting for Cas to make his move. “For you, that offer is always on the table.” 

Cas rears up, roughly uncrosses Dean’s legs and pushes them forward until his knees are almost at his shoulders, spreading them wide. The pressure knocks Dean back onto his elbows, but he lets Cas manhandle him willingly. Biting his lip, he arches his back, making contact by rolling his hips. Cas stills, looking down at the beauty now beneath him. “Impatient, aren’t we?” he teases. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened earlier. In that bathroom?” 

Dean’s breath hitches. 

“Yeah, that, sweetheart,” Cas purrs. He trails a single fingertip under Dean’s jaw, from one side of his neck to the other, watching him shiver. “Is that something that you’ve done before?” 

“No,” Dean confesses. “But I want to.” 

“Oh, I know you do.” Cas licks his lips. “I haven’t seen you that turned on since I told you I’d spank you.” 

“Have you? Done that?” 

“Yes,” Cas smirks. “A few times.” 

“Do you like it?” 

Cas leans down to lick across his pulse point, letting his tongue delve deep enough to feel the jackrabbit beat bump against it. “Mmm. I really, really do.” 

Cas plants a quick peck on his lips and then rolls away to grab lube. Dean murmurs, “Holy shit,” and yanks his boxers back off. When Cas returns, he cants Dean's hips up toward his belly, moving in behind him for leverage to keep his ass in the air. Dean makes an undignified squeak of surprise. “Warn a guy next time!” he huffs. 

Cas gives him a harsh slap on the ass, just to make it bounce, and an unrepentant look. “I have to keep you on your toes somehow.” 

With that, he uses a slicked-up middle finger to slide into his boyfriend’s unstretched, almost virgin-tight hole. Dean sucks in a gasp. “Shit, shit, shit. Definitely on my toes now.” 

Cas’s eyes slip closed at the perfect pressure surrounding him. “Fuck, Dean. One week away and it feels like you’ve never taken a cock before.” 

“I can’t wait to have you, Cas. I’ve missed it so damn much.” Dean’s hands are grabbing onto any part of Cas he can reach, hips and arms, trying to stay on the right side of overwhelmed. 

“Me, too. It’s been a long, miserable week.” 

Cas opens him up quickly, trying not to skimp on prep, but too anxious to get inside Dean’s overheating body. 

“Oh god, Cas. Hurry. Please.” Cas can hear the frantic note in his voice, feel the tremors start in his legs. It sends him spiraling up faster and faster. Sensing Dean’s desperation for him never fails to carry him away. 

Before he can comfortably slip three fingers into Dean’s little hole, Cas can’t take it anymore. Being inside Dean is addictive, and he needs it right fucking now. His skin is itching to slide against him, his cock drooling to pop through that barely-stretched muscle. He lines up and taps his cock against Dean’s empty hole a few times, watching Dean writhe for it. “Cas, please...please.” He begs so prettily that Cas almost hates to give in. Almost. 

Knowing how much Dean loves his size, he spreads him open inch by delicious inch, maddeningly slow. Dean’s back arches up off the bed, huffing breathless sounds that echo in the room. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. Take it all. So fucking beautiful.” At the hilt, a deep grind pushes a shout from Dean’s lungs. 

“Shh,” Cas teases as his right hand drops to slide up around Dean’s perfect neck. Just the weight of his hand resting there makes Dean groan with anticipation. “I can’t have you waking my roommates, Dean. I might have to find a way to keep you quiet.” 

When Cas starts to move, Dean’s eyes roll back and he murmurs nonsense praise. “So good...fuck...that’s-that’s perfect...Cas...so...full...fuck.” 

Cas knows this angle is hitting Dean’s prostate on every stroke; he knows for a fact that Dean isn’t going to last very long. He wants to feel that clenching, pulsing around his cock, needs it like it is the very air in his lungs. 

“Dean, look at me.” He obeys like it’s second nature, which fills Cas with a warm, glowing heat. 

“Good. I’m going to give you what you want, baby. I’m going to choke you until you come, and you’re going to love it. I know you will. But this can be dangerous if we’re not paying attention, and I would never do anything to hurt you. Okay?” 

Dean nods adamantly, giving his consent. 

“Put your hand on my wrist and keep it there, okay? If you let go of my wrist, I will let go of your neck. That’s your safe word. Repeat that back to me.” 

“If I let go of your wrist, you’ll let go of my neck.” 

“Okay, you ready?” 

Lust drunk eyes penetrate him. Dean moans at a particularly hard thrust. “Yes, yes, yes...” he repeats with each one after it. 

Cas stares, connecting with Dean on an elemental level as he takes control, takes Dean’s breath, takes his life into his hand. Dean sinks into the feeling of breathlessness, the full flush of blood in his face, the dizziness a lack of oxygen provides. He’s underwater but the weight centered just under his jaw is pulling him down instead of buoying him up. 

He can feel the grip of Cas’s fingers on his carotids, the rapid beat of his heart against them. He feels the tight pressure around his windpipe. Dots dance in his vision as he races toward release. Cas is snapping his hips into him, stroking his weeping cock, and maintaining the perfect hold on his airway. Dean’s losing coherent thought, the danger of the moment dipping into his adrenaline reserves. His whole body tingles with vivid sensation; Cas has him on the edge of the cliff already. So fucking quick. 

Dean is lost the second that Cas grins. That blissful look tips Dean into a free fall that rocks his body for what feels like eternity. He seizes with its brutal intensity. Suddenly, he’s gasping; burning lungs panting to regain equilibrium. Dean blinks away the disorienting high, coming back to the sight of Cas in the agonizing grip of orgasm. He trembles and gasps through it, while Dean feels the resulting warm gush of come. He moans at the raunchy feeling that is quickly becoming his favorite sensation. 

He watches the sweat-soaked face of his sexy as fuck boyfriend. The smug satisfaction there isn’t off-putting, it’s well deserved. Dean realizes now why he’s never been able to be submissive before. He’s never found someone strong enough, dominant enough, to make him want to submit. Until Cas. 

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” 

“As if you don’t know,” Dean grins, blissfully fucked out and sated. 

“Mmm,” he agrees. “You took to that remarkably well.” 

“It was awesome,” he says around a yawn he tries to stifle. “Full body orgasm.” 

Cas pulls out with more than a little remorse. He hates leaving Dean’s wet heat. Laying on his side, he molds Dean to him, back to front, and wraps his arm around his chest. His nose nuzzles in behind his ear, pulling in his salty, masculine scent. Heaven. 

 

***** 

 

Cas wakes Dean up slowly, first by light touches down his side and over his hip, then by brushing his lips along his neck. Dean is conscious long before he shows it, basking in this tender attention. Apparently, Cas is not fooled. 

“We could lay here all day, pretending we’re not awake, or we could go get your tattoo started.” 

Dean turns his head over his shoulder to look at Cas. “Really?” 

“Mm hmm. Meg texted me last night. She has a couple hours free.” 

“Huh. I thought the process was more complicated than that.” 

“It is,” Cas says next to his ear before kissing and nipping down to his shoulder. “I brought the art to her last week, so she’s already done the preliminary work.” 

Dean turns to lay on his back. He’s pensive, thoughtful in a way that suggests he’s contemplating something important. “Yeah,” he smiles and then looks up at Cas. “I’m getting ink done today.” 

“Big step?” 

Dean shrugs. “Not like scary big, just wanted to do it for a really long time. It feels a little surreal. Exciting, I guess. That probably sounds ridiculous to you, huh?” 

Cas adores the bashful Dean that he infrequently glimpses. There aren’t many situations that make the confident man shrink back, but being inexperienced at something definitely makes him lose his footing. Seeing Dean timid and unsure makes his own protective nature come out aggressively. He finds that he wants to hover over Dean, snarling and snapping at anything that might get too close. 

He mentally chastises himself for the alpha male bullshit he finds himself succumbing to. Dean is not some prissy twink that he needs to defend and protect. He’s bigger than Cas, honestly, and he’s managed an create a successful life, quite impressively, without Cas’s help. So, yeah. Dean’s self-sufficient. 

There’s just something...primal between them that cries out for Cas to care for and serve him in any way that he can. He can’t put a name to it, can’t even really describe it. Dean is simply the center of his focus and attention, and he will be damned before anything harms him. 

“It’s not ridiculous at all. I remember the first tattoo I ever got. I had it covered up later because it was atrocious, but I was downright giddy at the time.” 

Dean chuckles. “What was it?” 

Blushing a little, Cas admits, “It was a shamrock.” 

Dean’s eyes go wide with glee. “What? Really?!” 

Knowing that Dean deserves to tease him for the stupid choice of his youth, he sighs, “I know, I know. Totally cliché.” 

“Yeah, just a little bit. Irish boy from Southie getting a shamrock. Wow. I’m a little embarrassed for you, Cas.” 

Cas yanks the pillow out from under his head and whacks him with it. Dean laughs harder. He steels himself, waiting for the retaliation, but it doesn’t come. Cas looks like his batteries ran out. He stopped, pillow still in hand, and is staring off into space. 

“Cas?” 

He blinks and looks down at Dean, untethered from the reality of a moment ago. “I might not be Irish. I don’t know what I am.” 

Dean pulls him down into his arms, letting his head rest against his chest. That Cas goes willingly is reason enough to be concerned. “Hey, you’re still you, Cas. That’s all that matters.” 

“Yeah, but. I just assumed. How did I get to be twenty-six years old and never question it?” 

“It’s a fair assumption in this neighborhood, sweetheart. There aren’t many outsiders here.” 

Cas furrows his brow, preoccupied with this weird revelation. 

Dean kisses his forehead and sits up, making Cas follow. “Personally, I don’t care if you’re half Martian and half giraffe. You’re sexy as hell, and I want to blow you in the shower before we go, so get your ass out of bed.” 

Cas is left blinking after him as he leaves the room stark naked. He stares until he hears the shower turn on before he grins and gives chase. 

 

***** 

 

Meg waves them over to the counter, where a gruff bear of a man flips through a book of artwork. She rests her head on her chin, flirty smile in place. “Well, if it isn’t Boston’s most beautiful couple.” 

“Give it a rest, Meg,” Cas grumbles. 

“Don’t mind him, he had a little overdose of Gabe this morning.” Dean leans over the counter to kiss her cheek. “Thanks for fitting me in so soon.” 

“Are you kidding, Dean-o? I’ve been dying to get my hands on that virgin skin since we met.” 

Cas scowls at her, and Meg returns a knowing look. “You really are in a mood, aren’t you? What did that little twerp do to get you so bent out of shape?” 

“Apparently, he and Cole are tired of all of our escapades and want to work out a schedule of visitors.” 

“Cas thought that bending him over and trying to cram the schedule up his ass was a better solution,” Dean relays with a gleeful sparkle. 

Meg barks out a laugh. “I would have paid so much money to see that.” 

“He was squawking like an uppity hen. It was marvelous,” Dean agrees. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Cas sighs, “Who schedules visitors to their apartment? That’s ignorant, right?” 

“You’re not wrong,” Meg agrees. “You ready to get started, gorgeous?” 

She gets Dean seated in the chair, prepping his arm, and lining up the template, talking him through the process as she goes. “Now, I told Cas that I had a couple of hours, but my 11 o’clock cancelled on me this morning, so I have enough time to do the whole thing.” At Dean’s hopeful look, she rushes to add, “but that is a long time in the chair for a first time.” 

Dean looks to Cas for his opinion. He shrugs. “You’ve got a pretty high pain tolerance, so I think you could do it. I just don’t want you to get fatigued. Promise that you’ll tell her if it’s too much?” 

“Yeah, I’d really like to get the whole thing done if it’s possible. That would be perfect.” 

With Meg set up on his left side, Cas slides a stool over to his right, taking his hand to calm his nerves. “I guess it’s a little late to be thinking about this now, but what should I expect?” 

Cas smirks and leans in close to his ear. “You know the sharp sting of the belt you liked so much?” 

Dean almost chokes on his spit. “Yeah.” 

“Imagine that coupled with really intense vibration and the drag of a needle across your skin.” Cas leans back to see panic on Dean’s face when he whispers, “Fuck, I’m going to get hard, aren’t I?” 

Cas winks at him, letting him stew in his own kinky juices. Dean leans his head back into the chair and mumbles, “Shit.” 

Meg glares at Cas. “What did you say to freak him out, asshole? The last thing he needs is to get tense right before I start on a long session.” 

Cas laughs. “It’s personal.” 

She continues glaring at him as she preps her inks. Dean decides to bite the bullet and try to head off some of the embarrassment. Clearing his throat, he admits, “I’m just a little concerned that I might have an... inappropriate reaction to the process.” 

Meg blinks a couple of times and then her smile creeps up dark and dirty. “Why Dean, a little bit of a pain slut, are we?” 

Dean blushes a deep red, looking down. 

“Castiel, how the hell did you get so lucky?” she says, envy evident in her voice. 

“I wonder that every single day,” he admits. 

Meg squeezes Dean’s arm to get his attention. “Hey, it happens. It’s a lot more common than you might think, too. Don’t worry about it. I’m a professional, I’ve seen it all.” 

She yells out to the man at the counter. “You doing okay, Doug? I’m starting on line work, so I'll be busy for a bit.” 

“Yep. All good,” he answers back. 

Meg looks over at Cas and mutters quietly. “Poor guy comes in every so often, but he always leaves without ink. He can never find what he’s looking for.” 

“Cas, you should help him.” Dean’s suggestion is partly selfish. He wants to start the process without his boyfriend’s eyes on him. He wants to get his feet under him before facing the object of his all-consuming desire while experiencing pain that could potentially be more. 

Cas raises an eyebrow at Meg in question. “If you want to, I’d appreciate it. I’ll charge him a custom artwork fee for you. Could be worth a couple hundred bucks.” 

Cas looks to Dean. “Are you good?” 

“Yeah, go,” he smiles. Cas kisses him and heads to the front. 

Meg doesn’t miss his sigh of relief. “Ready?” 

The first line is like fire cutting across his skin; precise bees assaulting him in rapid succession. He isn’t sure why he thought this might excite him. He heeds all of Meg’s warnings. He doesn’t flinch, he doesn’t even breathe in too deeply for fear of moving her canvas. The loud buzz of the gun agitates his ears as much as the vibrations rattle his skin. It isn’t until she finishes the broad outline and returns to the bottom of the piece to fill in interior lines that the sensations shift and deepen. 

It’s similar to losing himself in pain for the sake of pleasure. All of the sharp, squirmy pain dissolves into waves, ripples on the pond turning from agony to thrumming ache. He stops trying to stay on top of it and sinks instead. The vibrations and prior abuse to the area make his skin numb enough to not have to be so present in the moment. He loses long minutes in the sounds of David Bowie’s growling voice. He is aware of Meg's movements, but she stays blissfully silent. 

When the lines are done, she sets the gun aside and gives it a thorough cleaning. He knows that he’s looking at it upside down, but even so, he can’t see how these dark slashes are ever going to amount to the beautiful art Cas designed. Panic flares in his chest. 

“I know it isn’t very impressive yet, but it will be before we’re done. Cross my heart, sugar.” 

Dean gives a wobbly smile. 

“Why don’t you take a minute to stretch, use the rest room. I want to check on Doug and Cas.” 

He hears gruff but boisterous praise coming from the front when he returns. Apparently, Doug is a very satisfied customer. He is showing off all of the details of the quick sketch Cas has done for him, exuberant hands flailing about in his excitement. Cas is standing back, quietly and uncomfortably dealing with the appreciation. 

Dean peeks over his shoulder to see what Cas has drawn. It’s a large shield split subtly into quadrants, filled with parts of his life he wants to commemorate. His service, his job, his family, his dreams. Cas has captured them all. Dean thinks he can see a tear in Doug’s eye. 

“Thank you, man. You’re a genius,” he praises. 

“It’s no problem,” Cas nods curtly and urges Dean back into Meg’s cubicle. He sighs and leans against the wall. 

“Cas, I can’t believe you did that so fast.” 

“It’s far from done. I don’t know why he’s so deliriously happy with a rough outline.” 

Dean steps up in front of him, boxing him in, kissing the frown from his lips. “Because he can see what it will be. You are a genius, you know that, right?” 

He scoffs, “Hardly.” 

Dean licks across the tender spot just under his jaw, nipping with his canines to get a hiss out of his talented boyfriend. “Yes, you are.” He punctuates his adjectives with wet, open-mouth kisses down Cas’s neck. “You’re spectacular. Miraculous. Phenomenal. Blistering hot.” 

Stopped by his shoulder, he raises his head and sees the lust mirrored in Cas’s eyes. They cut over to Dean’s forearm, where the abstract lines now criss-cross over the reddened skin. “It’s affecting you, isn’t it?” 

“It didn’t at first. It just fucking hurt. But after a while, it started getting to me. All she’s done are the outlines. How am I going to handle this whole thing?” 

“I’ll be here to help,” Cas grins. 

“You are only going to make the problem worse,” Dean huffs. 

“I’ll behave, I promise,” Cas leers, pulling Dean closer to nestle their hips together. Dean sinks into him with a throaty groan. Cas swallows it when he invades his mouth, stoking the fire that’s simmering eternally. 

“Fuck. I can’t leave you two alone for a second, can I?” 

Dean pulls back sheepishly. “Just praising the artist.” 

Meg tries to hand a stack of cash over to Cas, who looks at her with bafflement. “He paid upfront for the custom artwork and all of the sessions. This is your cut.” 

“It’s not even done,” Cas argues. 

“He loves where it’s going. When I told him that you are the artist that did the work hanging in here, he was overjoyed and didn’t want to miss the opportunity of having you finish it.” 

“How much?” Cas asks. 

“Four hundred for your part. After it’s complete, he’ll have to approve it, and then you’re done.” 

Cas’s jaw drops. Dean grins. This may be just the break that Cas needs. 

“If this is something that you want to continue doing, I’d love it. I have to turn away customers who want custom pieces because that is just not in my wheel house. I can mimic anything, but I can’t do what you do.” 

Cas tilts his head, “So how frequently do you get requests?” 

“At least twice a week, sometimes more. If we advertised using some of your artwork, I’m sure that would increase. You could probably make it a full-time gig.” 

Cas looks at Dean for his opinion, which is obvious by the dopey smile on his face. “Let me think it over, but I like the idea.” 

Meg flashes her electric grin. “Excellent. Alright, let’s get back to work, Dean.” 

Cas stays next to him, continuing work on his first commissioned piece. Holy shit. He’s a paid artist. From the sound of it, he could actually earn a legitimate living doing this. As the minutes fly, he checks in on Dean. First his head tips back, then his eyes close, his legs cross, his jaw tightens, his fists clench. At the end of an hour, Cas sees sweat dotting his temple. He sets his work down, and stands by his side. He makes eye contact with Meg. She nods. 

Brushing lips in his hairline, he murmurs, “You doing okay, baby?” 

Dean’s eyes open, a little glassy and unfocused. “Yeah,” he breathes. 

“Need a break?” 

Dean shakes his head. “No, but I could use something to cover my lap. I don’t think I can keep my legs crossed anymore.” 

Cas takes his coat off, folds it and lays it across his legs, following it with a tender kiss. Leaned over as he is, he can’t help but see Meg’s progress. The rose is finished, as is the entire clock face. She is detailing the edges of the staircase before adding in the abundant shading. 

Cas’s brain screeches to an abrupt halt, complete with lost control over most of his body’s motor functions. Fuck. 

Seeing Dean wear his clothes? Total and complete turn on. Seeing his art adorning Dean’s body? Instant fucking hard-on. If he thought his possessive streak was obnoxious before, fucking buckle up. 

“Goddamn.” 

“Looking so good, isn’t it, Cas?” 

He meets Dean’s eyes again, lust drunk without even touching him. He’s breathing like a bull, seconds away from doing something incredibly stupid, embarrassing, or both. “Yeah, sweetheart. I –I need to stretch my legs for a minute...I’ll be...be back.” 

Dean smirks when he rounds the corner. “What the hell was that?” Meg asks without looking up from her shading. 

“Cas is a touch possessive,” he explains. 

She squints at him to find the thread that she lost in the conversation. Dean grins. “He really likes that his art is on my body.” 

“Oh!” She barks out a surprised laugh. “Don’t think I’m not going to use that ammunition.” 

“I’d be careful. You get him worked up and you might just be subjected to something scarring. For you. Wait. Why am I trying to dissuade you? Fucking rile him up, do your worst.” 

“This is definitely the voice of experience speaking.” 

“Oh hell yeah,” he sighs dreamily. “He’s always dominant as fuck, but get his possessive kink going?” Dean whistles, eyes sparkling with delight. 

“That might be bordering on TMI, Winchester.” 

He chuckles. “Don’t ask if you don’t want to know, Masters.” 

“Point taken.” With that, she gets back to work. 

Cas comes back in quietly when he’s had a chance to get himself under control. Dean notices that his eyes carefully avoid the newly tattooed skin. He’s really sinking into the pleasure-pain again, so seeing Cas struggle to keep his libido in check makes him want. “Can you come here?” he asks sweetly. 

Cas stands next to him again. “Need anything?” 

Dean bites his lip and then speaks truth. “I need you to touch me.” 

Cas sighs, carefully taking his hand and lacing their fingers together. He lets his thumb rub circles on Dean’s palm. A few minutes later, another demand. 

“Kiss me.” 

Cas cards fingers through his hair, gazing down into his upturned guileless face. “You have to be completely still. No movement at all. Understand?” 

“Yes, sir,” Dean grins. 

Cas closes his eyes and shivers at the words. “Behave,” he commands quietly. 

Gentle, barely there touches of their lips go on forever but are hardly satisfying. They just serve to wind them up tighter, ratchet up the tension. Dean opens for Cas, indulging in seeking out the humid heat he desires. Cas obliges, a weak moan leaking out from between them. His resolve is cracked, broken, and disintegrating. Kisses deepen into soul-searching, air-deprived needful things. 

Finally, Cas has to draw breath. He pulls back just centimeters, but it is as far as he’s willing to go. Dean looks thoroughly drugged by his mouth. “I’m hurting, Cas. I need you,” he whimpers almost imperceptibly. Cas glances over to Meg’s progress. There’s no way that they’re going to be able to last long enough for her to finish. 

“Meg, we need to take a break.” 

“Oh, thank fucking god. I thought I was going to end up as an unwilling extra in your live porno.” She quickly wraps Dean’s arm and escapes the room. Cas tugs Dean out of the chair and pulls him into the bathroom before he allows himself to turn and put his mouth on him again. 

“Fuck, Dean. I’m sorry this is our only option right now. Just need to take the edge off.” 

“S-’s okay. I can’t wait. Need you, Cas.” 

“I know, let me think.” Their breathing, rapid and ragged, echoes in the cramped, tiled room with dingy light. 

“What do you want, baby?” 

“Don’t care, just you.” Dean’s voice is trembling, his body pumped full of endorphins from hours in the chair and full of lust from Cas’s mouth. 

“I want to be inside you.” 

Dean nods, ripping open his jeans and shoving them down before Cas can even help. Turning, he props himself on braced arms and drops his head forward. 

Cas shucks his pants down forcefully, grabbing Dean’s hips and tilting them up to the right angle. He spits in his hand, ready to start loosening Dean up. 

“Don’t prep. Just take me.” Dean’s shoulders are tense, his grip on the sink white-knuckled. 

Cas’s breath leaves him on a punched-out groan. “Dean. I –I can’t hurt you.” 

“You won’t, not really. I need this. Please, Cas?” 

“Just let me -” 

“Am I yours?” 

Cas meets his eye in the mirror, startled by the intensity in his voice. “Yes.” 

“Do you want me?” 

“Of course.” Like there was ever any question. 

“Then claim me!” 

Panting breath and a challenging stare convince Cas that Dean knows what he is asking. He uses the little bit of saliva to coat his engorged cock and, spreading Dean’s cheeks wide, pushes his way inside. Dean sucks in a deep lungful of air, head falling back against Cas’s shoulder. 

Cas pistons his hips in small thrusts, letting himself slide in incrementally as Dean starts to open up to him. If they hadn’t fucked hard last night, there’s no way this would have worked. Dean’s muscle memory of his cock is just recent enough to let him relax around the thick intrusion. 

“Seeing my art on your skin made me crazy for you, Dean. I left because I couldn’t control my reactions. If I had stayed, I would have fucked you in that chair.” 

Dean turns his head towards Cas’s neck, letting a moan puff out on his skin. “I could tell. I love that possessive streak, baby. It’s fucking hot to see you get so savage.” 

“Only for you. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted like this. 

Cas grinds into him in figure eights, hitting every surface of his inner walls. 

“Yes, oh god,” Dean sighs. “Fuck me, Cas.” 

“Always, baby. Whenever you want.” Cas uses his hold on his hips to bounce Dean back onto his cock, over and over, relentlessly. 

“Now that I see my mark on you, I want more, Dean.” 

“Yes, I want you to mark me everywhere.” 

“How? I’ll give you anything you want. Everything you want.” The pledge might be made in the heat of the moment, but it is no less sincere for its circumstances. He clenches Dean’s body to him, letting his hips do the work so that he can kiss down his neck and nip at his neck. 

“Come inside me.” 

“My pleasure.” 

Cas keeps kissing and nipping at the skin under his mouth. “Can I bite you?” 

“Yes! Lick, suck, bite, tear. Whatever you want.” Dean sounds well and truly wrecked. Sensing their impending climaxes roaring up to overwhelm them, Cas meets his eye in the mirror again. Pulling his head to the side to get better access to thick muscle at the junction of his shoulder and neck, he kisses the spot he wants to mark. Just the idea of leaving such a feral mark sends a thrill down to his dripping cock. 

“Keep up with me. I want you to come with me, Dean.” 

“Cas,” Dean whimpers, “Now, please. Can’t hold it.” 

“Stroke that gorgeous cock, baby. I’m right there.” 

The first contraction around his cock sends him into bright bliss. His teeth clamp down with the first pulse of come splashing inside the slick channel. Dean spasms in his hold, yelling out his release. Cas releases his hold on his neck, pumping deep and holding still to feel the constricting muscles milk his cock. “Fuck, baby. That is the most beautiful feeling in the world.” 

Dean all but collapses forward onto the sink ledge, arms flopped over the bowl. Cas admires the bite mark he left. He didn’t break the skin, but it will bruise nicely. He runs his thumb over it proprietarily. “You still okay with this?” 

Dean snorts. “It’s a little late if I’m not, isn’t it?” 

Cas smacks his ass sharply. His imperious brow raises when Dean looks back over his shoulder. 

“I loved it, Cas. I’m just as into this possessive shit as you are, if you hadn’t noticed.” 

 

***** 

 

Once they get cleaned up, Dean heads back to the chair while Cas searches for Meg. He finds her out front, smoking a cigarette. He has the grace to look sheepish when he pokes his head out. 

“Sorry about that. We’re...um. Clear-headed now. No more interruptions, promise. If you still have time, that is.” 

Meg looks at him, taking his measure. “Cas, how long have you two been together?” 

“Um, a few weeks. Why?” 

She puts out her cigarette. “I snuck back in because I forgot these,” she gestures as she throws the butt away. “I overheard some pretty intense things. I know you haven’t really ever done relationships, but this is really fast to be so consumed. I just wanted to check in with you, that’s all.” 

Cas shoves his hands in his pockets. “I know it’s fast. We’ve talked about how fucking terrifying it is to fall so fast.” 

“So, you’re talking about it.” 

He huffs a little laugh. “Yeah, we talk about everything. It’s so easy with him, Meg. He knows everything about my past and he doesn’t judge. He encourages me to be what I want to be. I’ve never had anything like this. He’s not just the guy I’m fucking. He’s the best friend I’ve ever had, too.” 

The sweetest smile he’s ever seen on her heralds her blessing. “You deserve to be this happy, Cas. I hope you and Dean are it for each other.” 

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love comments (and kudos, of course) so please drop me a line or two. 
> 
> Also, I'm interested in taking on a (one and only one) suggested prompt to write a short little piece to get my head away from this and my other WIP for a minute. But, I have no idea where to find them. Suggestions? 
> 
> Thanks ever so.
> 
> [Find me on Tumblr here](https://angelaland.tumblr.com)


	15. Finding Peace is not an Easy Task

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tattoos are finished, projects started, and bets are settled...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, dear readers!!!
> 
> I did not mean for my hiatus from this story to be so long, but my little 'palette-cleanser' took on a life of its own. It is now a complete story that will have an upcoming sequel. 
> 
> I learned something about myself. I can't write short fiction. 
> 
> I'm back now, and committed to Subterranean until it is complete. I think it's about 6 or 7 chapters from the end, but I hate to say that because this chapter is actually the first half of what I had planned for this chapter. So somewhere between 6 and infinity sounds right.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!

When Meg comes back to finish Dean’s tattoo, he is subdued. There is none of his flirtatious charm or snarky sass. Cas notices, just as he always seems to catch the subtlety of Dean’s moods lately. Monitoring him surreptitiously, Cas finishes his artwork for Doug before Meg completes the last touches of shading. 

“If I ask you to look it over for fine details, are you going to lose your shit?” she teases Cas. He has the decency to look suitably guilty. 

“I’ll behave,” he promises. His thirst for Dean has been slaked for the moment, so he can concentrate on the tattoo without all of his proprietary bull shit getting in the way. As always, she has done an impeccable job, and he can’t find fault with any part of the artwork. “Other than maybe shading this area a little heavier, I think it looks fantastic.” 

Dean is looking down on it, a beatific smile resting on his face. 

 

His curious mood lasts, even after they arrive at Bobby’s salvage yard. He had texted while Dean was in the chair and asked them to stop by. 

Dean greets him warmly, “What’s up, old man?” 

“I found another bike that you might be interested in.” 

Cas furrows his brow. “I thought Claire picked up her Bonneville already.” 

“She did. Last Thursday. It’s already at Ricky’s garage waiting for his class to start.” 

A spark of Dean’s usual enthusiasm bubbles to the surface. “No way. You found one?” 

Cas looks between the men in confusion as Bobby nods and Dean erupts into excited laughter. “That’s awesome! What kind of shape is she in?” 

“Come on back and take a look.” 

In the middle of his workshop, a rusted hunk of chrome sits waiting. Its angles are twisted out of their intended sleek configuration, but it still possesses a unique grace. Cas gravitates to it, can taste the promise of freedom in the air around it. 

He’s not a believer in fate or destiny. Well, he hadn't been until the doors opened on a subway car and revealed his future. Looking at this broken frame, he feels something familiar; the pull of necessity and belonging. 

Dean nudges Bobby, a joyful smile on his face, when Cas runs a reverent hand over the motorcycle. The older man raises his brow, conceding that Dean had been right in his guess. Dean walks over to join Cas. 

“Beautiful, right?” 

“Gorgeous,” Cas agrees. “What is it?” 

“She’s a ‘75 Indian Chief.” 

Cas gives Dean an appraising look. “What is it with you and feminizing vehicles?” 

Dean shrugs. “It’s a sign of respect. I treat Baby like a lady.” 

“Yet you date men.” 

“No, I date man. Singular.” 

Cas shakes his head when Dean gives him a campy wink. “I didn’t know you were looking for a motorcycle.” 

“I’m not.” 

Cas meets his eye with good-natured suspicion. “When Claire was looking, there was an Indian here, and it made me think of you. It was in terrible shape, irredeemable, or I would have brought you to look at it. This one, though, would be a perfect candidate for restoration.” 

Dean sees the yearning in Cas’s face as he returns his gaze to the bike that was probably breathtaking in its prime. 

“If you’re interested,” he teases. Cas is interested. He’s fairly certain that Cas is halfway in love already.   
As it is, he can't take his eyes off the Indian as he tries to talk himself out of it. 

“I don’t know anything about motorcycles.” 

“You can take the restoration class with Claire, and Ricky will help you. He’s a good guy.” 

“I don’t have the money for this,” he sighs. 

“You have a brand new lucrative job, and the great part of restoration is that you can do it on your own timeline.” 

Bobby interjects, “I’d say that it will run you between $2,500 to $5,000 to get her running right, more if you want to make her pretty.” 

Cas runs his hands over the chrome and lacquer one more time, asking Bobby, “How much do you want for her?” 

“I’ll give you the friends and family price of $350.” 

As Cas pulls his wallet out and practically empties it into Bobby’s hand, Dean grins. “It’s like kismet.” 

 

***** 

 

Owning a vehicle for the first time in his life has given Cas a light, joyous feeling. It doesn’t matter to him that it doesn’t run. It’s his. He bought it with money that he earned with his own hands. If this is how people always feel when they do honest work, he can see the appeal. 

Dean talks him back to Bobby’s makeshift gun range before they leave. “You do need all the practice you can get,” Dean teases as he picks up bottles for targets. 

Cas pins him with a challenging look. “That’s big talk coming from the rookie.” 

“I’m confident. I’m a quick study.” Dean’s eyes slide over Cas like a caress. 

Cas catches him when he turns, and the competitiveness in the air takes a decided turn. “We still have a bet to settle,” he reminds, leering at Dean with promise. 

Remembering the last time they were here, Dean’s eyes light with mischief. “Mmm. That’s right. I’d almost forgotten. What was it that you promised me as my prize?” 

“You remember exactly what I agreed to. Just like you remember exactly what you offered to me.” Cas gets steadily closer, his voice dropping into another register. With mere centimeters separating them, electricity jumps across the surface of their skin. 

Just like that, Dean is mesmerized. All it takes is for Cas to approach him with intention, and he’s completely under his spell, trembling in anticipation. 

Earlier today, he'd scared himself with the depth of his desire for Cas. Demanding that Cas claim him raw in a tiny bathroom in a public place? Being so desperate to be marked by him that he agreed to being bit? Not only agreeing to it, to be honest. Feeling Cas’s teeth bear down on his neck sent him hurtling into orgasm. 

Dean’s felt this out of control need once before. Not for any other person, not by a long shot. When he was doing the bulk of his experimentation in college, he’d stumbled into several kinks. The first time a man smacked his ass, though, he’d been so intrigued, so twisted up in his own mind, that he could hardly think about anything else. Like an archaeologist, he’d brushed away the excess until he’d found all of the edges of his desire and could finally acknowledge its shape. His kink for mixing pain and pleasure uncovered, he’d chased it relentlessly. 

This intensity between them, Cas’s possessive behavior, his need to be marked and owned; it’s all leading him toward uncovering another truth about himself. The word has been tickling his consciousness for a while, he’s examined the desire, but not copped to it outright. Yet. 

"Do you need a reminder, sweetheart?” Cas teases, as he reaches for Dean with one finger teasing the skin just above his waistband. 

“Yeah, tell me.” 

Cas tucks the caressing finger under the fabric and tugs Dean closer. Close enough to his ear to brush against it as he speaks, Cas murmurs, “You agreed to give me a day of your willing submission, to give up your control and let me do whatever I want to you.” 

Oh fuck, he wants that. Not in an abstract, that might be fun, kind of way, either. Dean’s breathing is ragged, his brain screaming for the image Cas creates to become a reality. 

Cas notices the enthusiastic response from Dean with a sly smile. “You agreed to let me put a mark of ownership around your neck and treat you like your sole purpose in life is to bring me pleasure.” 

Feeling the tingling of aggressive need spread through his body, Dean licks his lips. “When would you like to do that?” 

Cas steps back and tsks, “I’d have to win the bet first, Dean. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” 

Cas unholsters his gun from the small of his back, slides the safety off, and carefully, slowly takes aim. His calm is sending Dean spinning even farther into his head. How the fuck can he be so unaffected? 

Three measured squeezes, each followed by a reverberating boom and the wind chime sound of breaking glass. Dean doesn’t look, just keeps watching the impressive form of his boyfriend. Fuck, he is gorgeous. His strong, capable hands sheath the gun and turn to face Dean. The visuals dancing through his head are too much, distracting him away from the present. 

“Dean.” He snaps out of his pleasant daydreams to meet Cas’s eye. “It’s your turn. Let’s see what you’ve got.” 

His tone teasing, Cas adds, “Don’t forget what’s at stake.” 

Dean steps up, maintaining eye contact. In one movement, he unholsters the gun and slips the safety off. Still holding Cas’s eye, he aims his gun into the dirt in front of their targets and pulls the trigger. 

“Looks like I lose,” Dean challenges. Cas picks up the gauntlet, smiling in appreciation, eyes darkening. 

“So when can I claim my prize?” 

“Whenever you want,” Dean breathes harshly. “The sooner the better.” 

Cas takes hold of Dean, gripping his hip and holding his chin. “Tomorrow.” 

“Yes,” Dean agrees. “I’ll tell Benny to take off for the weekend.” 

“Perfect,” Cas growls, taking his lips in a plundering kiss. 

 

***** 

 

Pacing aimlessly in his apartment, Dean could swear that time in going in reverse. He’s expecting Cas to arrive sometime before noon, but he’s already done everything he needed to and it’s only 11 o’clock. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. He won’t last another hour. 

He’s stocked up the kitchen, washed his sheets, and scrubbed the apartment clean. Now, he can only patiently wait. Patience is not his strong suit. 

When he’d received Cas’s text last night, requesting a few things in preparation for their day together, Dean’s mind had gone fuzzy. Intense desire and a little hint of fear mixed to create a potent cocktail. Cas had asked him to stock his favorite juice, gather his collection of sex toys for easy access, and make sure that they had extra towels. His last request was simply that Dean not touch himself. All in all, the list wasn’t scary. The intention, though. His boyfriend was coming to his home to dominate him. That thought does things to him, squirmy, twisty things that rub his nerves raw. 

Dean is shocked out of reverie when there is a knock at the door. When he opens it, Cas looks almost as anxious as he is. Just having him here settles something in Dean. 

“Good morning, gorgeous.” Cas grins and crowds Dean, taking a gentle kiss. 

“Yes, it is,” Dean flirts and gives another, less chaste, kiss in return. “Come in,” he invites. Cas walks in, eyes surveying Dean’s home for the first time. The walls are exposed brick, with over-sized windows breaking up the heaviness and filling it with natural light. Dean’s furnishings are dark leather and hardwood, severe and masculine. A large TV takes up the far wall, bookcases filled to overflowing line another. It’s comfortable, despite the obvious wealth. 

“Very nice,” Cas admits. “It suits you.” 

Dean’s confusion clears after a few seconds. “Have you really never been here?” 

Cas smiles. “No. Weird, right?” 

Dean nods, awkwardly running his hands on his jeans while letting that bizarre truth sink in. “Well, let me show you around.” 

“Later,” Cas interrupts. Setting his bag down and guiding Dean over to sit on the couch with him, he says, “You seem nervous.” 

Dean blows out his held breath. “Yeah, I guess I am.” 

“Sweetheart, we don’t have to -” 

“No, I want to,” Dean says, pink rising in his face. “I really want to. I just-” 

Cas waits for Dean to meet his eye. “I think I might want this too much.” 

“Well, we’re in the same boat, then. I could hardly sleep last night, thinking about what you were willing to give me; the things we are going to do.” 

Tipping their heads to touch, Cas reminds him, “We’re exploring this kink together and we can take it as lightly or go as deep as you want, Dean. You can’t want it too much, because there’s nothing wrong with wanting it.” 

“I know, but this kink feels a little different.” 

Cas kisses his forehead, “Of course it does. You’re making yourself vulnerable.” 

“Yeah,” Dean scoffs. “Just a little bit.” 

“Dean,” Cas says sternly. 

“I’m sorry. I’m not being flippant on purpose.” 

“It’s okay. It’s a defense mechanism.” 

Dean soaks up the calm assurance on Cas’s face. 

“Dean, let’s talk about what I plan to do, and maybe that will settle your nerves.” 

“Okay.” 

Cas licks his lips, running his thumb across Dean’s as he speaks. “My focus for today is going to be filling you up. I’m going to fuck you, repeatedly, and stuff you full of my come.” 

Dean’s mouth goes dry at the thought, and he has to clear his throat to be able to speak. “How-how are you going to keep it from leaking out?” 

“You told me you wanted a plug, sweetheart. You didn’t think I’d forgotten, did you?” 

Dean tries not to whimper when his mouth goes slack. 

“Since you’re so tactile and responsive, I want to use some sensory deprivation on you to build anticipation, and I want to try edging.” 

“O-okay.” 

“I want to play with your ass for hours.” 

Dean huffs out a laugh, “Of course you do.” 

Cas grins, “But this time with toys as well as my hands and mouth.” 

Dean hums his approval at that as well. “Everything else we’ve already done at some point.” 

“Nothing scary there.” 

“So are you ready to begin?” 

Dean nods, his heart leaping at the thought. Cas stands and pulls Dean up along with him. “This is just us, Dean. If something isn’t working for you, tell me. We’ll adjust.” 

Dean nods again. Cas raises a brow. “Okay, I’ll communicate,” he promises. 

“Good,” Cas praises, and then his face goes cold and hard. “Now, strip.” 

Dean feels the breath leave him like a gut punch. His body moves to comply before his brain catches up. Cas turns away to take some things out of his bag. When he turns back, Dean is completely naked, breath already coming heavily. 

Cas looks around the apartment appraisingly, and then pointedly to the mess of clothes dropped at Dean’s feet. Dean picks them up, holding the pile while awaiting instruction. 

“Go put them in your room. You won’t need them again today.” 

Dean pauses in his room, taking a few slow breaths. He knew that Cas would slide into the role of dominant easily. He’d seen plenty of signs in his personality, but this commanding presence surpasses all of his expectations. He can’t believe how easily he obeys – wants to obey Cas. 

When he returns, Cas puts a hand on his shoulder and presses down. Dean slips to his knees with just the hint of suggestion, and Cas ruffles his hair affectionately in response. He tips Dean’s chin up to meet his eye. “Today, you are mine. You have promised to submit to me and let me take care of you. Is that still your wish?” 

“Yes,” Dean states without hesitation. 

“Good. While you wear a symbol of my ownership, I will not use your given name, just as I don’t want you to use mine.” 

Cas tilts his head, contemplating. “May I call you pet?” 

“Yes. What should I call you?” 

“Sir is fine.” 

“Yes, sir.” The title makes Dean shiver. He can tell from Cas’s sucked in breath that it affects him as well. 

Cas holds his hand out, showing him a familiar chain and lock. “I wear this sometimes, but today I want you to wear it as your collar.” Dean raises his chin to extend his neck in acceptance. As Cas loops it around and fastens the lock in front, he explains, “It actually has a lot of personal significance.” 

Cas runs his thumb over the lock like a talisman before continuing. “When I was living on the streets, I had very few possessions, but what I had, I didn't want to lose. I needed somewhere to keep them safe. The bus terminal had free lockers if you used your own lock. That lock is the first thing I ever bought when I was on my own. It kept everything I owned safe for years.” 

Dean reaches up and touches it, remembering the first time he’d seen it. Cas was wearing it around his neck the night they’d met. 

“The chain came later. I took it from a dirtbag I kicked the shit out of.” 

“And why is that personally significant?” 

“He was trying to molest a thirteen year old girl.” 

Dean eyes him thoughtfully. “Claire?” 

Cas nods and the picture becomes clear. His collar isn’t a symbol of Cas wanting to own him, it’s a symbol of his care and protection. He quietly responds, “I’m honored to wear it...sir.” 

 

Cas finds the items he’d asked Dean to gather on the over-sized chair next to them. He lays a towel down on the couch and puts the shoebox on the coffee table before digging in his bag. He sets a bottle of lube and a small box on the table as well. 

“Let’s see what we’re working with,” Cas grins as he opens the shoebox. Dean’s not sure why that sparkle of mischief makes him flush a heated pink. He’s not embarrassed to use toys, but Cas makes it seem like he’s being caught doing something forbidden. 

“We will definitely be using this today,” Cas says and takes the prostate massager out of the box. Dean lowers his gaze as mental images threaten to overwhelm him. “And this,” he says approvingly as he lets a length of silk rope slither down to coil next to the other items. 

“Do you have a blindfold?” 

Dean shakes his head. “Which one is your bedroom?” 

Dean scowls at the question. “What’s wrong?” 

“You should already know that. It’s weird that we’ve never been here together.” 

“And that bothers you?” 

“Yes, C-sir.” 

“Does it bother you that I want to go in there without you?” 

“No. Not at all. It’s the door at the end of the hall.” 

Cas runs a hand through his hair and leaves him there, naked and kneeling. He should probably feel self-conscious, but oddly, he doesn’t. 

In just a minute or two, Cas is back with a couple of Dean’s ties. “Are either of these ones that you would mind getting dirty?” 

“No.” He can’t help the smile on his face. Cas looks at him expectantly. 

“I gave you access to my bedroom, and the only thing you did was grab some ties from my closet. You weren't gone long enough to snoop.” 

“Why would I waste time with your things when I have you out here naked and waiting for me?” 

“Mmm. A man with priorities,” Dean agrees. 

“Up on the couch, pet. Hands and knees.” 

He complies immediately. As Cas talks, his hand falls to the back of Dean’s neck and pushes down, forcing him to lower his chest to the towel-covered leather, arms out in front of him. “I’m going to open you up for me, but we’re going to play with some of these toys before I fuck you. Once I bury my come inside you, I don’t want any of it getting out.” 

The vulnerable position only becomes more so when Cas climbs up behind him, fully-clothed. “So goddamned beautiful,” he praises as he separates Dean’s cheeks with his thumbs. Before Dean can brace himself, a flat, firm tongue drags across the cleft of his ass. Cas growls deep in his throat as he moves in for another lick. Dean huffs in surprise, and then pushes his hips back to meet Cas. 

Pushing him forward again, Cas lets a resounding slap crack across his right cheek. The burst of pain shocks him into immobility. 

“Be still, pet. Your job is just to accept what I give you.” 

Dean focuses on keeping his hips still, which is much more difficult than he would have thought. He’s so used to being an active participant in his pleasure that to simply lay there and feel requires true restraint. Having the dull ache throbbing on his ass makes it even more trying. He already wants to writhe against Cas’s tongue, beg for more. Jesus. They’ve barely begun. He needs to get himself under control, or the next several hours are going to kill him. 

Cas’s tongue delves past his rim, into the hot center of him. When he slips his thumb in and tugs, he whispers, “Look at how you open up for me, pet. I barely have to ask and you willingly let me in. So accommodating.” 

Dean hums his pleasure, not sure if Cas wants him talking at this point. Cas runs his other hand down his back, enforcing the angle of sway. 

“Do you like your massager, pet?” The question seems innocent, but Cas has switched to his middle finger, which he slicked up with an obscene amount of lube. It slides in without resistance, all the way to the webbing. When it is sheathed as far into Dean as he can get it, he bounces it in and out with furious, short thrusts that steal Dean’s breath and short out his mind. 

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes, trying to control the grind his hips want to make. Once he shakes off the onslaught, he answers, “It’s okay. I usually just use it when I jack off.” 

“Have you ever had a prostate orgasm?” Cas adds a second finger to his hole, entering slowly until the stretch gives way to a soft acceptance. 

“No, I’ve tried, but I can’t get there.” 

“Hmm. I think I should rectify that.” With that statement, he flips his fingers and rubs over Dean’s prostate like there’s a bullseye painted on it. The electric shock of it knots his gut, and the wave of pleasure that follows forces it to release. The shuddering emptiness of Cas removing his fingers precedes his command. “Turn over, pet. I need you comfortable for this.” 

When Dean is on his back looking up at Cas, he can’t help taking a minute to enjoy the view. The sight of his lock around Dean's neck is inspiring some vivid fantasies. His eyes stay on his lovely boyfriend while he grabs a pillow from the corner of the couch and tucks it under his hips. 

“This is really hard to do the first time. Some people work at it for weeks before they manage it, but I’ve never known anyone quite so responsive. I think you can do it,” Cas remarks as his fingers slip back into Dean’s body with a little sigh. 

“Try to forget everything you know about orgasms. This isn’t going to feel anything like it. It’s deeper and won’t happen if you expect it to come from your cock. In fact, you absolutely shouldn’t touch your dick at all. Okay?” 

“Yeah.” 

Cas’s fingers stop and his eyes go cold. “Show me some respect.” 

Dean’s eyes go wide and he rushes to correct himself. “I’m sorry, sir. Yes, I understand, sir.” 

Warmth spreads over Cas’s countenance as he rubs gently over the swollen gland. “Much better, pet.” 

The continual light pressure shouldn’t feel this good, but it’s amazing already. Dean closes his eyes, concentrating on chasing the pleasurable feelings. “Breathe, pet. Just focus on that. When I tell you, I want you to clench and release all of those pelvic muscles. We need to get a rhythm going.” 

Dean nods, taking a deep breath and letting it out. Cas can feel his body get heavier, tension fading out of him. “Okay, clench...release. Again. Again.” 

The engorged gland moves away from his fingers with every squeeze and reappears with every release. His obedient pet has incredible muscle strength here. The clench around his fingers is as tight as always, sending arousal to boil in his veins. He can imagine how perfect it will feel to fuck into Dean while he’s in the midst of multiple intense orgasms. He’s salivating at the thought of it, can feel the hand caressing over Dean’s body fight against the urge to grip his cock tightly. 

“So good, pet. You’re doing beautifully. What are you feeling?” 

“I-it’s warm, like being splashed by bathwater.” 

Cas grins and praises him. Dean’s going to start trembling soon. Excellent. He didn’t want to have to resort to the toy. He wants to give this experience to Dean with just his fingers. With his free hand, he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, shoving them down over his hips. 

“Have you ever seen a woman’s body shake when she’s having an intense orgasm?” 

“Uh, yes, sir.” 

Cas chuckles. He wonders if Dean experimented with women before he realized he was gay, or if his experience is more theoretical. He’ll have to talk to him about that later. “That’s going to happen to you any minute now. Don’t change anything you’re doing and don’t fight it. It means you’re on the right track.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Right on cue, Cas notices the tremble start in Dean’s thighs just a couple of minutes later. “There you go, pet. That’s beautiful.” 

Dean can feel horrifyingly vulnerable sounds try to escape him as the warmth radiates from his pelvis out to consume the rest of his body. This pleasure is so different from anything he’s ever experienced. It makes him feel raw and exposed. His clenches his jaw to restrain himself from flying apart. 

“You need to relax, pet. Let yourself feel it. If you fight, it won’t happen.” 

Cas runs a soothing hand over his hip. Dean grabs his hand with his own, needing the connection as he relaxes his jaw. Agonized, wounded sounds fall from Dean’s lips as his body shakes in earnest. His drawn-out, gut-punched moans transform into pleading, breathy pants as his body approaches the deep, visceral release. 

Cas is mesmerized by the beauty unfurling in front of him. Dean is climbing to truly dizzying heights. Finally, his body gives in and he comes with a sobbing shout. His cock kicks, his muscles contract, but it is a dry orgasm. Cas’s heart stutters in sympathy and yearning. He wants to feel this golden wave of pleasure from the inside. 

When Dean is over the crest of it, Cas exchanges his fingers for his cock, sinking in like a hot knife through butter. His breath is punched out of him on a groan. Dean’s core is pulsing through the waves. His cock brushes against his prostate and Dean’s eyes jump open in surprise. 

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers when Cas grinds his hips to keep rubbing over the gland. 

“The best part about this is that I can keep you orgasming as long as you can stand it, pet.” 

Each slide of his cock seems to set off another round of pulsing and fevered curses. Dean is sweating, thrashing, begging. “Oh, god, Cas. Please. Don’t stop. Keep...yes. Fuck, yes!” 

Watching Dean orgasm is always breathtaking, but this is glorious. His eyes have rolled back, his body is trembling, his mouth fallen slack with bliss. Dean’s hands are gripping him tight enough to leave bruises, but he will wear them with pride. Cas feels powerful, god-like, as he continues to pull pleasure from his gorgeous pet. 

He relents and shifts his cock away from Dean’s prostate when he’s about to become overstimulated. Now that he’s letting Dean come down, Cas watches him collapse into the afterglow. The sated, glassy-eyed smile Dean gives him sends him racing toward his own release. With an evil grin, Cas takes Dean’s cock in hand and starts pumping it in time with his thrusts. “Can you believe that we’ve neglected this beautiful cock?” he teases. 

“No, I can’t come again,” Dean warns. 

“Oh, yes you can. And you will, my pet.” 

Dean shakes his head until his brow furrows and his panting begins anew. “Fuck, how is this possible?” 

“You haven’t ejaculated yet. We bypassed that normal path to orgasm, so when you do actually come, you’re going to cover me in it.” Cas is undeniably pleased when his prediction proves true. 

Dean’s spine twists with the explosive release, ropes of come erupting with a pressure he’s never experienced. Satisfaction drapes him when he sees the evidence of his bliss covering Cas’s chest and abs; the droplets running down to pool together in his lap. Cas is still chasing his release, and Dean sees the signs that he is close. 

“Come for me, sir. Push that creamy come deep inside me.” 

“Fuck! I might need to find ways to mind your tongue, my mouthy pet.” The challenge in Dean’s eyes tempts him. Cas slips two fingers into Dean’s mouth, commanding him to suck on them with nothing but eye contact and a little tilt to his head. 

When he does come, the memory of Dean’s lovely commands are what pull him under. On any other day, he would have begged for Dean to keep talking to him. Today, though, is about power dynamics, and he needs Dean to feel his submission. 

Cas pushes in deep and holds there, grinding against Dean’s ass. “Ready to be plugged, pet?” 

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is going to be the rest of their day of debauchery, and it will be up very soon.
> 
>  
> 
> Comments are wonderful, please leave one!! 
> 
> [Find me on Tumblr here](https://angelaland.tumblr.com)


	16. Yes, Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas continues to revel in Dean's submission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening, dear readers!
> 
> This chapter is the rest of Cas and Dean's day of debauchery. There is a tiny bit of plot / character development /romance happening here, but mostly it is a long chapter filled with Dean's submission and Cas's domination. 
> 
> Have fun!

After leaning down to kiss Dean, Cas grabs the little box he’d brought with him. Opening it, he shows the beautiful blown glass plug to Dean. 

“Wow. That’s a lot fancier than I expected.” 

“Only the best for you, pet,” Cas replies as he gently pulls out of Dean’s body. “Don’t move. I don’t want to spill a drop.” 

Cas pulls his jeans back up on his way to the kitchen. He’d chosen glass for its ability to retain temperature, and as he washes it thoroughly, it heats up. 

Sweet, obedient Dean is in the exact same position when he returns. Cas runs his fingers through his hair on his way back to his spot between his legs. “Open them wide, pet. I need to see what I’m doing.” Drizzling lube over the tip, Cas meets Dean’s eye. “Tell me how this feels.” 

When the glass makes contact with his swollen rim, Dean hums in appreciation. “Really warm.” 

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Cas pushes the plug slowly so that it pops through the muscle and slides into place. Cas taps the base of it several times to make Dean squirm. “That will keep your greedy hole full while we move on to other activities.” 

Cas pulls Dean’s hands to make him sit. “Can you stand, pet?” 

He can see the sass that wants to come out, but Dean’s voice is purely demure. “I think so, sir.” 

Cas stands and pulls him up beside him. Dean wobbles a bit, but plants his feet. Grabbing his bag, one of the ties, and a couch cushion, Cas heads back toward the kitchen. “Come, pet. It’s time to eat.” 

Dean follows, curiosity overcoming the bizarre sensation of walking with a very solid piece of glass wedged up his ass. It’s not uncomfortable, just unusual. It’s going to take some time to get used to, but he’s fairly certain that is largely by design. Cas drops the cushion on the kitchen floor between the island and the table. He looks pointedly at Dean and down at the cushion. 

Cas walks around the island without confirming that Dean has followed his command. He knows he has. Helping himself to the apple juice in the fridge, and while looking for a cup to pour it into, he explains the rules. “For the rest of the day, you will be completely dependent on me, pet. I will decide what you do and when you do it. You will eat and drink by my hand alone. Your pleasure is in my control, and will be given at my discretion.” 

Standing in front of Dean where he kneels on the cushion, Cas waits for his eyes to lift. “Understood?” 

“Yes, sir.” He takes the offered juice, grateful for the refreshing sweetness after the physical and emotional wringer Cas has already put him through. His legs are as weak as a newborn colt, his mind a comfortable numb. 

Appraisingly, Cas watches him drink. Taking the glass back, he suggests, “You might want to sit down on the cushion. You’re going to be there a while.” 

Dean adjusts to sit cross-legged, and immediately shifts over onto one cheek; the plug giving an unexpected nudge to his prostate. Finally settled, Dean looks up to see Cas approaching again with his tie in hand. The devilish look on his face makes Dean’s heart pound. Cas doesn’t stop until he’s directly behind him. In the next instant, the world goes dark. 

“I’m going to take your sight for a while, pet,” he purrs as he tightens the tie behind his head. “I know this isn’t as thorough as an actual blindfold would be, so I’m trusting you not to cheat and try to see anything.” 

“I won’t, sir.” 

Dean feels Cas’s lips press into his jaw. “I know you won’t, my precious pet. Especially after you already disobeyed.” 

Surprise sharpens Dean’s focus. “When did I disobey?” 

When no answer comes, Dean realizes his mistake. “Sir.” 

“What is the one thing I asked you not to do today, pet?” His emphasis on the nickname is sharp. It sends Dean’s heart into a canter. 

“You asked me not to use your real name, sir.” 

“And while I was fucking you, what name were you screaming?” 

Dean thinks back and his heart kicks up to a gallop. He did call out for Cas, repeatedly. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s habit to attach your name to my pleasure.” 

Yanking his hair tightly, Cas forces his head up. “Don’t try to placate me. You’ve earned punishment, and you will accept it graciously.” 

“Y-yes, sir.” 

Cas is gone in the next second. With one sense removed, Dean tries to extend his others to identify what is going on. He can hear Cas moving around the kitchen, opening cabinets, taking out utensils. There’s the zing of a knife leaving the block. Even with all of the sounds of preparing food, the stove hasn’t been turned on, and he can’t smell anything. 

He wants to ask what his punishment will be. The thought of it sits like a veil over his mind. He can’t think about anything else while it’s there, waiting. He hopes that it will be something enjoyable, like a good hard paddling. If only he hadn’t already admitted that he likes spanking too much to ever be a punishment. Maybe Cas won’t remember. He scoffs at himself. Yeah, right. 

He wanted to try being submissive for Cas. No. Sir. He can’t think of him as Cas or he’ll make the mistake again. He willingly offered himself to please...Sir. Within the very first hour, he’d broken the only rule he’d been given. He is disappointed with himself, but he resolves to do better. He will be diligent and focused so that Sir is pleased. 

That title is sticking in his mind, though, like rubbing a cat against the grain. There is a sense of not quite right about it. He’d liked it at first, but it just doesn’t fit Cas. It’s too formal, maybe? Too commonplace? What else could he possibly use, though? He sure as fuck isn’t calling his boyfriend 'Daddy'. When he thinks the word, ‘Master’, it’s like turning a key in a lock. 

“What’s wrong, pet?” 

“Nothing...” He’s physically fighting against the title now that he’s found the right one, but he forces himself to use it. “Sir.” 

“Are you in pain?” 

“No...Sir.” 

Dean hears him approach and set something on the table. From much closer, Cas disagrees. “You gasped and went rigid. Something happened.” 

Dean hangs his head. “It was just something I was thinking about. Everything’s fine.” 

“Tell me what it is, pet.” 

“I don’t want to upset you. Can we please just forget it?” 

“No, tell me.” 

Dean sighs audibly. “The title, Sir, doesn’t fit you.” 

Cas is silent for too long. Dean starts to apologize, but he’s cut off. “You don’t find me worthy of that respect?” 

Dean rushes to correct his misinterpretation. “No, no, no! That’s not at all what I mean.” 

“Then why don’t you explain.” Dean hates the blindfold in this moment. He can’t tell how Cas is feeling without seeing his face. All he knows is that his voice is cold and devoid of emotion. 

“I use that title as a sign of respect for any man in any normal situation. It’s not personal enough. For me, this type of play is so appealing because I want to feel possessed and owned, but not by just anyone. You’re the only one I’ve ever considered wanting this with.” 

With the admission comes a nerve-wracking vulnerability that Dean has to swallow down before he whimpers from the rawness of it. He flinches when he feels a hand cup his jaw, only because he wasn’t expecting it. 

“What would you rather call me, pet?” The question is as soft as his touch. 

Dean clears his throat to force the name past his lips. “Master.” 

He can hear the breath that Cas sucks in, can feel him drop down in front of where Dean sits. His voice is wrecked when he commands, “Say it again.” 

“Yes, Master.” 

Cas curses and lunges to pull Dean in for feral kisses full of pressing lips and nipping teeth. In between he praises, “Christ, you know how to push all of my buttons. I never would have thought that would be hot, but fucking hell.” 

Dean lets him take whatever he wants. It feels so good to let his master be the raging storm around him. He focuses on his harsh grip, as if he is afraid that Dean will pull away; his little pleased sounds of desperation that sneak out when he takes a breath; the decadent taste of him, masculine and spicy, like whiskey and cloves. 

Cas jerks away suddenly and pulls Dean up to stand. It’s too quick for his lack of sight to be able to reconcile, so he staggers. Cas holds him firm and guides him to the table. Just like with the couch, Cas moves him to sprawl his upper half across the wood with one hand. 

“I wanted to feed you first, but I need to take you.” Cas tugs on the plug, rocking it back and forth to loosen its grip. “Right. Now. I can’t wait.” 

Dean sucks in a breath and clenches his ass when the bulb of the plug slips free. He shifts his hips to sublimate the empty feeling, but in a handful of seconds, he goes rigid. 

Cas lines himself up and pushes his cock in, shallow, figure-eight thrusts enough to squeeze himself into the tight heat a few centimeters at a time. Dean forces himself to relax, breathing through the intrusion. Using his own come as lube, he finally bottoms out. Cas groans at the feeling, while Dean melts into the table. 

With only a few trial strokes to ensure that his cock and Dean’s hole are as slick as they need to be, Cas sets a brutal pace. One hand on his hip and the other pushing down between his shoulder blades, Cas fucks him with such authority, such dominance, that everything in Dean screams in delight. Yes! This is exactly what he wanted when he threw the bet. He wants to be manhandled, cries out to be owned, needs to feel Cas lose control. 

“I can tell by those lovely sounds that you’re enjoying this.” 

“Yes, yes, yes. So good,” he manages while the air is punched out of his lungs by the slap of Cas’s hips. 

“Isn’t it? Every time I bury myself in you feels like heaven, my pet.” 

Dean reaches for his cock, hanging hard between his legs under the edge of the table. Cas quickly snatches his hand away and lays it flat on the table next to his head. His grip keeps it completely immobile. Cas makes a chastising sound when Dean tries to pull away. “No, sweetheart. It’s time to receive your punishment. You will not come, by my hand or your own.” 

“Shit,” he whimpers, feeling precum drip down to the floor. The next sound out of his mouth is a strangled cry when Cas grips the base of his cock harshly. 

“What have I told you about respect, pet?” 

The apology flows easily. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Master. I accept my punishment. I accept whatever you give me happily.” 

Cas releases his throbbing dick with a teasing caress down the shaft that makes Dean moan. “That’s much better, my darling pet. Perhaps I should put you in a restraint to keep this lesson on your mind, hmm?” 

Dean wants to argue, but he won’t slip up again. He’ll show him the utmost respect from now on. He doesn’t need to be restrained. 

Cas picks up where he left off, but like a carnival ride gaining momentum. He is slow at first, but still uses his full range of motion. Each stroke is exquisite, hitting every nerve ending inside of Dean, lighting him up like a midway. 

“You should see yourself right now, how beautifully you surrender to me. Completely pliant, taking everything I give you and just accepting it. Even without your sight, you trust me. You are absolutely stunning.” 

The praise makes Dean smile, and he lets his mouth go slack as Cas picks up the pace. Breathy, pleased sounds leak out of him as Cas rushes toward his climax. Knowing that he can’t come gives him a strange sort of freedom and clarity. He focuses on listening to Cas; tries to feel what he must be feeling. Whatever it is must be divine because Cas is caught in a litany of curses and praise. 

“Here it comes, beautiful,” he murmurs to Dean just as his body locks up. Dean sighs when he feels the warmth saturate his used channel. 

As soon as Cas finishes pulsing his come into Dean’s body, he pulls out and slides the plug back in place. Dean lays there, waiting and trying to cool down, while Cas cleans up. 

When he returns, he guides Dean back down to kneel on the cushion. Dean feels a delicate touch on his bruised shoulder and a sympathetic sound from Cas. “Jesus, sweetheart. I really did a number on you, didn’t I?” 

“It’s fine. I like knowing that it will last.” 

“You do, don’t you?” 

Dean hears his footsteps walk around him back to the table. Is Cas still wearing shoes? He’s been completely naked this whole time, and Cas hasn’t even taken off his shoes? Like ice water, the realization and its accompanying vulnerability strikes. When he fidgets, he feels the weight of the chain shift around his neck. Another shiver rolls down his spine. 

“Would you consider something permanent?” 

“Permanent?” Cas can hear both the hesitation and the intrigue in his voice. 

“Yes, another tattoo maybe?” 

Dean smiles. “This one hasn’t even started healing, and you’re ready for me to do another one?” 

“Absolutely. I’d love to cover you in them.” Cas can’t see the flush in his face because of the tie, but it carries down to his chest. 

Dean licks his lips before he replies, “I’d consider it. What would you like to put on me?” 

“I don’t know yet, but hearing you are open to it? It’s bringing all kinds of ideas to mind, my pet.” 

Cas shakes himself out of his lustful reverie, sits down in the chair, and pulls the plate of food closer to him. “Those are thoughts for later, though. I need to feed you before I forget myself again.” 

Cas had brought simple foods for the day: a variety of fruits, nuts, crackers, and antipasti. Since he plans on keeping them busy physically, anything heavier would just weigh them down. Putting together a perfect bite of salami, olive and artichoke, he holds it out just in front of Dean’s mouth. 

“Open up, sweetheart.” 

Dean tentatively opens his mouth, flinching at the first touch of cold. When the flavors hit his tongue, he becomes bolder. “That is so good. Thank you, Master.” 

Cas smiles at the flirtatious tone. When he slips another bite into his pet’s mouth, he has to restrain a groan at the feeling of his mouth sucking his fingers on the way out. This isn’t Cas’s first time playing the role of a dominant, but it certainly feels like it. All of his control, all of his plans are wrecked by his consuming desire for Dean. 

He’d meant to play with all of Dean’s toys to establish the power dynamics further. He wanted to make Dean fall apart while subtly embarrassing him for relying on the toys. Instead, he jumped right for giving them both gratification. Now, there’s no way he’s going to go back and use toys on his lovely pet’s ass. Not with two loads of his come already buried deep and contained. Just thinking about it has Cas’s cock twitching in his jeans. It had felt amazing to sink into him with the slippery help of his own release to ease the way. 

Hearing Dean’s desire to call him 'Master’ forced another slip of his focus. In less than an hour, he’d fucked his poor boyfriend twice. He needs to slow the pace, or they will never make it through the day. Seeing Dean on his knees, naked and blindfolded, is bringing out not only intense lust, but his protective nature as well. Trusting and open, Dean is letting himself be incredibly exposed, and Cas will do anything to guard him in this state. 

He keeps feeding Dean carefully selected bites, the best parts of everything on the platter. “I know you enjoy handfeeding me. Are you liking being fed as well?” 

“Yes, Master. Everything is delicious, and it’s even better coming from your hand.” 

“Would you like to feed me, too?” Cas notices the slight increase in his breathing, the shifting and twitching of his body. Dean would like that very much. Standing, Cas takes Dean’s hand and pulls him upright slowly. He pushes the tie up and off of Dean’s face, leaving the man blinking and squinting in the bright room. 

Now that Dean can see again, he appreciates every color a little more. The most vibrant one, the center of Cas’s eyes, catches him like a lure. He can’t look away, even as Cas sits back down and tugs him forward to sit in his lap. The pleased smile on Cas’s face finally snaps him out of it. 

Without giving in to the eye roll, Dean turns to the plate and puts together a delectable morsel of fresh mozzarella, roasted pepper, and a salty olive before feeding it to Cas. Humming in satisfaction, they continue their silent, intimate meal with hardly a break in eye contact. 

 

***** 

 

Dean hears the sounds of a hockey game in the background as he slowly wakes. He’s curled on the couch, his head in Cas’s lap, his favorite blanket thrown over him. Cas’s fingers slip through his hair, coast along his skin, finger the lock around his neck. He is content. 

He’s also refreshed and ready for more debauchery. Stretching, he catches Cas’s attention. He turns the TV off immediately. 

“Good, you’re awake, my beautiful pet,” he coos when Dean smiles. Slipping a finger into his mouth, he tugs on Dean’s jaw. “I have such plans for this mouth.” 

Cas tosses a decorative pillow to the floor between his legs. “On your knees, darling boy.” 

Dean hurries to obey. Sucking Cas’s cock is never, ever a hardship. Dean delights in it and it shows. 

Cas leans forward to grab a water bottle and hands it to Dean before standing to drop his jeans to the ground. “Drink at least half of that, pet.” 

Dean is much thirstier than he’d thought and finishes the entire bottle. When he looks back at Cas, he’s taken off his pants and shoes, but left his shirt on. The challenging look in his eye says that he’s done it on purpose. “Something wrong, pet?” 

“No, Master.” 

“I don’t like dishonesty.” 

Dean runs his tongue behind his teeth, before going the diplomatic route. “I always look forward to seeing your art.” 

Cas hums in amusement. “So you think I should bare myself for you? Give you whatever you want?” 

Dean looks down, chastised, and surprisingly, it rubs Cas the wrong way. “I’ll tell you what, sweetheart. If you can give everything to me for the next twenty minutes, I’ll take off the shirt and let you ride me.” 

Dean meets his eye, mischief sparkling. “Anything for you...Master.” 

Cas scowls at him. “Don’t think I don’t hear that brattiness in your tone. Apparently, you still haven’t learned your lesson about respect.” 

Shaking his head, Dean argues, “No, no, no. I wasn’t trying to be a brat.” 

Cas grips his chin. “We’ll address your disobedience later, pet. Now, open your mouth.” 

Dean obeys, letting Cas hold his jaw while he feeds his long cock into him. He stops just shy of cutting off his air, but the fit is still tight. Dean reaches out to steady himself, but Cas has other ideas. 

“Clasp your hands together behind you. Good. Leave them there. You won’t need them because I’m going to do all the work, pet.” 

Oh shit. Cas is going to fuck his face with that massive cock. He trusts Cas, but this might be asking too much. Before Dean can properly panic, Cas moves a hand to the back of Dean’s head and starts a leisurely push and pull. Dean can either fight his hold or relax into it. He chooses the latter and struggles to settle himself. Pushing the tension out of his shoulders, he lets his eyes slip closed. 

“You really liked being choked, didn’t you?” That seemingly innocent question brings alarm to the forefront of Dean’s mind. He looks up at Cas, whose beatific smile does nothing to calm him. “Shh. Don’t freak out, pet. You know I would never hurt you.” 

The slow thrusting doesn’t ever stop or speed up. Cas simply adds to the sensations. He pushes a fraction of an inch deeper each time, holds a second longer. Dean has plenty of time to adjust his breathing, to figure out how to swallow around the fat cock that is rubbing against the walls of his throat. 

“You’re doing so well, my pet. So willing to please me.” 

Dean sinks down on his heels, letting his legs spread to stabilize his body. He can feel Cas picking up the pace, knows instinctively that this tenderness is about to give way to much rougher treatment. He’s both terrified and excited by the prospect. 

“Look at me, sweetheart.” Dean complies, eyes already watering as Cas pushes against the back of his throat. The tears are collecting, but not running yet. Before he’s done, Dean will no doubt look like a jilted prom queen. That thought brings a little sting of regret. It’s really too bad that Cas didn’t think to put eyeliner on him before they began. Another time, perhaps. 

“I need you to relax and let me take you. I’m watching your breathing; I’m in control.” He waits to see if Dean needs more convincing. When his face remains passive, Cas redoubles his efforts, going deeper into his throat than he’s ever been. Fuck. It feels so damn good. His eyes cross with the effort to not come. He moans out praise of “Perfect” and “Amazing” and “Mine”. 

Dean’s face flushes from the lack of oxygen getting to his brain; his eyes go glassy as the tears flow freely. Spit slips unhindered from the corners of his mouth, trailing over his jaw and down his neck. Dean isn’t aware of any of it. He slips off into the weightless, fuzzy ether, letting Cas have complete dominion over him. 

Watching his boyfriend disconnect from reality is a heady rush. When he starts to see the signs, he forces himself, with a strength he didn’t know he possessed, to stay completely in the moment. He can’t afford to give in to the release that is hovering just out of reach. Not while Dean has put himself in Cas’s hands. The beauty at his feet makes his heart ache. Dean is exquisite. 

Cas continues his deep strokes, trying to keep Dean floating for as long as he can. His body is fighting against his mind. He trembles violently with the need to come, curses tumbling out of his mouth, before he finally gives in and pulls out of Dean’s swollen mouth. He receives almost no reaction other than a slow blink. 

Cas whips his shirt off with one hand and uses it to quickly mop up the mess they’ve made of Dean’s face and neck. With the way his lovely pet is leaning heavily into the hand cradling his head, there is no way he’s going to be able to ride Cas while he finishes. 

Instead, Cas pulls him gently to his feet with plenty of support. Moving around to the back of the couch, he lets Dean fall forward into the soft leather while he kicks his feet out to widen his stance. Working the plug out with the utmost care, he grabs the lube from its abandoned spot on the couch. Drizzling it over his cock, he mixes it with the leftover sticky spit. Using prodding, slick fingers, he opens Dean back up easily. His body gives almost no resistance. 

Cas glides back into the welcoming depths of Dean’s body, sighing at both the heat and the tight embrace. As he makes the inexorable climb to climax, he touches Dean reverently. His hands worship his muscular back, caress the lines of his arms, smooth over his bruised skin. He feels Dean start to come back to himself after a few minutes. 

“Welcome back, baby,” Cas purrs. Dean groans in contentment as he stretches his arms and then his back. He props himself up on his elbows and turns to look at Cas. 

“How are you feeling, pet?” 

“Spectacular, Master.” His voice has dropped to rival the timbre of Cas’s, fucked out and raw. 

“Good. I hope you don’t mind that I continued.” Now that Dean is aware, Cas lets his hands move to the muscular globes of Dean’s ass, squeezing, separating, slipping his thumbs along his rim. 

“Not at all. That is what we agreed to earlier, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, it is, gorgeous, but this time felt a little like somnophilia, so I wanted to be sure.” 

“It is pretty kinky to be unaware that you’re being fucked,” Dean laughs. 

“I think I should be offended by that,” Cas remarks. 

“If you have insecurities about your size and prowess, there’s no hope for the rest of us.” 

A wicked grin creeps over Cas’s face. “Oh, I have no insecurities about how I fuck, pet. I’m simply questioning how little I’m being appreciated.” 

Punctuating his comment with a jarring slap to Dean’s ass, he grinds his hips deep, making Dean groan and curse. “Fuck. You are definitely appreciated. Adored. Revered even.” 

“Mmm. That’s better,” Cas agrees. His head tips back as his contentment gets sharper, needier. His thrusts are merciless, pulling wild sounds from him. “Talk to me, pet.” 

Dean stands upright, leaning back into Cas and murmurs, “What would you like to hear, Master? That I exist only for your pleasure? That I’m addicted to this? To you?” 

Dean grabs Cas’s hand and moves it to his stomach and covers it with his own. “Or maybe that I want you to breed me, pump so much of your come into me that you can feel it distend my belly?” 

Cas is on the knife-edge of release, his lungs heaving, his brain frenetic with the imagery Dean is putting there. Through his sawing breath, he manages to gasp out, “Yes, that’s perfect. So hot. Fuck. I’m coming,” Cas hisses at the overwhelming wave that grips him and huffs out a shout of Dean’s name. Dean groans as Cas spills into him again. Dean watches it happen, greedy eyes taking in every detail of agony and ecstasy written on Cas’s body. 

As soon as he can force his eyes open, Cas seeks out Dean’s mouth, drinking thirstily from the fount of his devotion. Once Cas slips free of his body, Dean turns and drapes his arms around his neck and waist. Their touches are gentle, adoring, and exactly what Dean needs. 

He knows that Cas is edging him, that his so called punishment is simply part of the process, but damn if it isn’t getting harder and harder to stay on top of the crazy need. Especially now, after Cas sent him into orbit during that blow job turned face fucking. His skin feels over-sensitized, like he has a light sunburn. Every touch feels more intense than it should, and his body is aching for Cas. 

Worst of all, his heart is making itself known no matter how hard he tries to convince it to take the day off. This day of kink exploration shouldn’t be bringing out his romantic notions, but it absolutely is. As soon as he prostrated himself at Cas’s feet, his heart flew into his mouth and demanded an audience. 

He’s been actively fighting against acknowledging his feelings for Cas. It is too early to even think the word love in connection with their relationship. He’s being ridiculous and setting himself up for heartbreak. If he professed his love right now, it would likely be the last time he ever saw Cas. 

Yet, every kiss Dean places on his lips is a promise of love and devotion. The silent ‘I love you’ given as an offering of intention; the tenderness of his touch and the reverence in his gaze. They break apart just enough to lose themselves in the other’s eyes. 

Dean opens his mouth to speak, but has to bite his lip to keep his confession from escaping. 

“So beautiful,” Cas murmurs. He takes one more chaste kiss before stepping back. “Let’s get you plugged and go make some dinner.” 

Dean can only nod as he swallows hard. 

 

***** 

 

After being fucked twice more during the evening, Dean is reaching the end of his tether. 

First, they got a little carried away after dinner. Hand feeding each other pieces of juicy watermelon devolved into licking and sucking the sticky juice from wherever it dripped. They barely made it to the shower before Cas had him pressed into the wall. 

Later, Dean sat in his lap, his back to Cas’s chest. They rocked their way to a lazy orgasm for Cas while they watched the ending of the hockey game. The position hit Dean’s prostate perfectly, and it was all he could do not to come. As it was, he had to make Cas stop and start so many times that he finally gave in to wearing the cock ring Cas had threatened him with earlier. It wouldn’t prevent orgasm, but it definitely made his job easier. 

He just hopes that Cas will relent this time. Their day is almost at an end, and despite the exhaustion and tension of not coming during hours and hours of amazing sex, Dean doesn’t want it to end. He’s never felt this cared for, treasured and cherished. 

He’s going back to work tomorrow, for the first time in weeks. He knows that he’ll be buried in a backlog of cases that the other case workers couldn’t take on during his absence. His free time is going to be all but extinct for the foreseeable future. 

Cas is working with Meg tomorrow, too. She already has three clients that want to meet with him to create custom work. Although his response was wary at best, Dean noticed the sparkle in his eyes, which is about as exuberant as Cas gets about anything. 

Spread out on Dean’s bed, Cas is finally giving in to his obsession. He’s been toying with Dean’s ass for almost an hour. At first, he just played with the plug, tilting it to the side to work it loose enough to pop out, and then back in to watch Dean’s ass greedily suck it into place. He moved on to fingering him open as wide as he had ever been before. 

Cas is four fingers deep; Dean is painfully hard and trembling. “Please,” Dean whispers. 

“Please, what, pet?” One hand is offering soothing touches over his back and down over his thighs while the other is creating desperation. 

“Please, Master. Please fuck me. I need you. I need you so much.” 

Cas feels his earnest pleading like a ache. Removing his hand, he helps Dean turn over. His gorgeous, submissive boyfriend is in sweet agony already. Panting and covered in a dewy layer of sweat, his body is crying out for release. 

“Put your hands on the headboard and keep them there, pet,” Cas commands. He hadn’t told Dean that he was restricting his sense of touch throughout the day in addition to edging him, but it was very intentional on his part. Dean is so incredibly tactile that the results are sure to be explosive when he finally gives his hands back to him. 

Cas folds Dean’s legs up to his chest, stretching him wide open beneath him. As he sinks into the heat of him, Cas announces, “I’m going to let you come this time, pet.” 

Dean huffs out a whimper at the news as well as the feel of Cas’s thick cock making itself at home in his used, filled hole. Cas runs his hands over every part of Dean’s body, seemingly at random, like he just can’t get enough of touching him. 

It makes Dean grip the headboard more tightly. He hasn’t really had his hands on Cas all day, and the juxtaposition of being caressed so thoroughly while his hands are unable to do the same is taking its toll. Cas is using every bit of his skill to bring him to orgasm, rolling his hips and alternating the motion with dirty grinds, and it feels so fucking good that Dean can only release pitiful grunts and moans to accompany every heaving breath. 

As utterly wrecked as he is, he can’t think of anything he wants more than to touch Cas. His fingers twitch with the necessity, his chest lifts to try to feel the friction of their skin rubbing together. Cas pushes him back down to the bed and shakes his head in warning. 

Dean slams his head into the pillow, growling his frustration. Cas raises an eyebrow in surprise. This is the first time all day that Dean hasn’t been completely compliant with what Cas asks of him. After some of the things that he’s done to and with him, it’s interesting that this is the point where Dean is losing his composure. Perhaps it’s just that. He’s been so obedient that he just can’t be anymore. 

“What has you so upset, my pet?” 

“I want to touch you. Please. Please, Master. Let me touch you.” The breathy urgency sends a shiver down Cas’s spine. As he considers it, Dean continues a litany of begging that makes Cas salivate. 

“You want that badly, don’t you, beautiful?” 

“Yes, yes. Please. I’ll do anything.” 

“Anything?” 

Dean’s grip on the headboard looks painful. “Anything.” 

Cas slows his pace, ready to negotiate. “I’ll give you a choice. You can only have one, so choose wisely.” 

Dean nods his agreement, arms shaking from restraint. 

“You can either touch me, or you can come.” 

Dean continues nodding, breathing out his harsh agreement. “Yes, okay.” 

“Which will it be, my pet?” Cas is grinning, knowing what he will choose. This is the perfect ending to a very long edging session. Dean’s climax is going to be explosive. 

“Touch. Touch,” Dean pants, staring deep into his eyes. “Let me touch you.” 

Cas stops moving altogether. His mouth gapes open. He blinks back shock. “If you touch me, then you won’t come tonight.” 

“I know, I understand,” Dean whimpers, writhing beneath him. 

“Dean. Think about what I’m saying,” Cas orders, slipping from character. 

“Please, baby. Please let me,” Dean’s voice cracks, his eyes go liquid, and Cas can only say, “Yes”. 

Dean’s hands wrap around him, clenching into his hair and splaying across his back, in the space of a heartbeat. He sighs in relief and pulls Cas in for an insistent kiss. Dean’s hands touch every inch of Cas that he can reach, grasping and firm. He breaks the kisses to breathe, but only slightly. He breathes around them, sighing and moaning on every exhale. 

Cas is caught up in the sweet moment with him, and he can’t believe the way it is flaying him raw. He is exposed, his naked soul offered up for Dean to see. It is terrifying, and he trembles in Dean’s embrace. 

“Keep going,” Dean urges as he wraps his legs around Cas’s waist. “I want to feel you come.” 

Cas does what Dean asks, but he stays wrapped up with him, lips connected. There is hardly any space between them, their bodies moving together eagerly, gracefully. When Cas comes, it is with a sigh of contentment breathed into the crook of Dean’s neck. 

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sigh* I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Please, please, please leave a comment. It takes so little to make me so happy. Please and thank you.
> 
>  
> 
> [Find me on Tumblr here](https://angelaland.tumblr.com)


	17. I'll Give You Anything You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to real life...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovely readers!
> 
> Well, I had to split the chapter again because it is getting so long, so it appears that I will have about 25 chapters total. TBH - I suck at estimating, and I always seem to go over my expectations. (Stupid long sex scenes with stupid loving boyfriends)
> 
> Just FYI - the plot is ramping up towards a couple major problems. It will get quite bumpy for the boys over the next few chapters. Just keep in mind that conflict drives character growth, and they both have some growing to do to get to where they are going. Endgame is always HEA for these two, though.
> 
> I received some really lovely, specific feedback in the comments for the last chapter. I replied to each of you, but I also wanted to thank you here. There were many times over the past week when my muse was on strike and I couldn't seem to get through a sentence without pulling my hair out. Reading those comments gave me the motivation to keep trying. So, thank you. 
> 
> ENJOY!!

Dean’s bleary eyes can’t focus on his computer screen anymore. He’s cleared a dozen cases today, just like he did yesterday and the day before that. The stack of files in front of him is still regrettably high. He hates thinking that there are actual kids represented by each of the thin manila folders. The flesh and blood children who are feeling alone, neglected, and so much worse. It’s the worse part that makes him open another folder and start the process all over again. 

He doesn’t mind the hard work, not in the slightest. He was raised with a strong work ethic, and like most New Englanders, he’s fairly certain that it’s encoded in his DNA. That errant thought brings a smile to his face. He’s finally going to see Cas tonight, which means he can give him the gift he’d ordered. 

They had parted ways at his apartment on the morning after their submission experiment, knowing that it would be a while before they would be able to be together. He’d reluctantly let go of Cas, feeling wrong about it with every fiber of his being. He’d set the thought up on a shelf to contemplate later, and when he got around to examining it late one evening, he’d attributed it to the lingering effects of playing with power dynamics. Of course he didn’t want to let his dominant leave. He’d spent an entire day at the man’s feet being completely dependent on him. 

That the feeling continued throughout the entire next week indicated that it is a little more significant than he’s ready to acknowledge. His burgeoning feelings for Cas are getting harder and harder to contain. They are leaching out of the tidy little compartment he’d shoved them into and seeping into every other area of his life. He can’t go twenty minutes without something reminding him of the man he loves. 

And what kind of fucked up is he to fall in love with someone in two weeks? Sure, they’ve known each other longer than that, but can he really count the time before they agreed to be monogamous? If not, it only took two weeks to fall completely in love with Cas. Maybe less, if he’s honest. Even if he does count back to the first time they met, when love was the last thing on either of their minds, he’s still months too early to feel what he feels. 

A text alert brings him out of his musing. “Speak of the devil,” he thinks fondly as he opens his phone. 

5:47pm: _Can I meet you at the bar? I’m still at the garage and Ricky’s here to help me with the fuel pump._

Dean sighs and rubs his eyes. He prays that it’s just a delay and that he won’t have to wait another day to see him. 

5:48pm: Of course. Whatever you need. When do you think you’ll be there? 

_5:50pm: I should be there by 8:30._

5:50pm: I’ll see you then. 

Cas stares at his phone as if it should be able to explain why he’s so unhappy with the four simple words. The plastic and circuit boards offer no insight. Clenching his jaw, he shoves it into his pocket and heads back into the garage through the open bay. Ricky already has the old pump off of the bike, so Cas hurries over to help. 

As his teacher, who’s rapidly becoming a friend, explains the steps, Cas does the actual work. Ricky teaches by making the students do everything hands on while he explains and helps troubleshoot any problems. When Cas’s bike is done, he will have done every bit of the work himself. He can’t argue with the man’s methodology. He’s learned enough in the past week to be able to diagnose and fix some basic problems with his bike. He might not have a calling to be a mechanic, but now he will have the capability to maintain his bike on his own. 

“How’s Dean doing?” Ricky asks while Cas is tightening a bolt down. He sighs. 

“He seems fine, but this has been a rough week for him.” 

“He’s back at work?” Cas nods and asks for the next bolt. 

“Man, that whole situation is fucked up.” 

Cas huffs a humorless laugh. “That’s an understatement. I want to get my hands on that psychopath before he can make another play for Dean, but no one can find him.” 

“So he’s still in danger?” 

Cas glares at the man, “Yes, and thank you so much for reminding me.” 

Ricky snorts. “I doubt that thought’s been far from the center of your attention since you figured out Boyar was showing interest in him.” 

Shoulders dropping, Cas sighs. “No, it hasn’t.” 

Ricky hands him the next component. “Is that why you’re so high strung today?” 

“What do you mean?” 

Ricky shrugs. “Short-tempered, tense, checking your phone all the time. It’s not like you.” 

Cas stops and cocks his head. “Yeah, it’s wearing on me. Being able to be there 24/7 and protect him myself isn’t plausible, but it’s what I’d prefer.” 

“He’s lucky to have you,” Ricky pats him on the shoulder as he reaches for his ringing shop phone. 

Cas listens to him explain the schedule for his motorcycle class to the customer on the line. “Did you get the paperwork filled out with Dean? Hello?” 

Ricky slams the receiver down. “Fucker hung up on me.” 

Cas can honestly say that he’s glad he doesn’t have to have a storefront of his own. People, in general, are oblivious assholes. “Can you hold this while I run the hose,” he asks. 

While he’s holding everything out of the way, Ricky broaches another topic. “Thanks for dealing with that Trevor kid the other day.” 

Cas looks up and acknowledges him with a curt nod. One of the neighborhood kids had barged in before their class and tried to intimidate the others, big swinging dick with a crow bar on his shoulder. Cas dropped him with a single well-placed punch and forced the kid to sit, silent and still, on a stool next to him until class was over. 

“It wasn’t a big deal. I’ve known him for years. The kid’s a punk, but he knows my reputation. He won’t be a problem again.” 

“How do you know him?” 

“He’s a couple years younger than Claire, and he’s always had something to prove. He picked on her in Junior High, and I gave him an attitude adjustment.” 

Ricky laughs. “Attitude adjustment, huh?” 

With a sly grin, Cas admits. “Yeah. As it turns out, he’s much sweeter with a few less teeth in his mouth.” 

 

***** 

Dean and Benny have been at the bar for close to an hour. On the surface, it appears that they are just two buddies enjoying a beer, but as he watches Dean mangle another coaster, concern knits his brow. “What’s eatin’ you, brother?” 

Dean shrugs and follows Benny’s gaze to the pile of damp confetti he’s created. He pushes the pile toward the center of the table. “Just anxious.” 

“When’s he supposed to be here?” 

“About 20 minutes ago, but it was an estimate.” 

Benny nods and takes a sip from the frosted mug. “I’m looking forward to meeting him for real.” 

Dean graces him with a small smile. “It feels like my worlds are colliding.” 

“Is that a bad thing?” 

“No, not at all. You’re going to have to meet sooner or later.” 

Benny grins, crinkling his sharp eyes in the corners. “So he’s sticking around for a while then?” 

Dean licks his lips and tries to force down the blush. “Um, yeah. I hope so.” He takes a slushy sip from his mug and then expands, “If it’s up to me, he’ll be around permanently.” 

Benny’s eyes go wide. “Really. That’s something I never thought I’d hear you say.” 

“Yeah, me neither.” 

In the low light, it’s difficult to make out the shock of dark hair making its way towards them, but Dean is so attuned to Cas that he easily recognizes him. His lips tip up in contentment, and Benny turns to see Cas approach. 

When he’s close enough to be heard over the loud music, he steps into Dean’s open embrace. They do the one-armed man hug, holding on to each other for just a couple of extra seconds. Being in such a crowded public place requires them to be less openly affectionate than they would like, but he doesn’t want to make Benny feel like a third wheel either, so he doesn’t push for more. 

“Sorry I’m late. Ricky had customers, so we got interrupted a few times.” 

Dean shrugs, “No problem, b-Cas. You’ve already met, but let’s make it official while I’m conscious, shall we?” 

Cas and Benny introduce themselves and shake hands while Dean flags down the waitress. Before she arrives, Cas asks, “What are you having?” before he looks at the table and goes rigid. His closes his eyes and clenches his jaw. 

“What? What’s wrong?” Dean questions. 

“Please tell me you didn’t order draft beer.” 

Dean scoffs. “Fuck no. I learned my lesson the first time. No more open drinks. We ordered bottled beer and then poured it into mugs.” 

Cas relaxes after that, but the constant movement of others still has him on alert. His chair backs up to the main aisle, and it gets bumped continually as people pass. When he reaches for his mug, his dirty nails catch his attention. “Jesus, I went home to shower and I’m still covered in grease. I’ll be right back.” 

When Cas disappears from sight, Dean moves over to take his seat and relocates their drinks. Benny lifts a brow in question. 

“Cas doesn’t like to be touched,” he explains and glances behind him at the river of customers. 

Benny doesn’t comment; he just smiles. Dean pays attention to Cas in a way he’s never seen him do before. He can tell that this meeting, and him giving his blessing on the relationship, is important to Dean, but he’s not sure why he’s nervous about it. Personally, he had a great impression of Cas from the very beginning. Cas had literally been saving Dean’s life when they met. Benny is sold. 

To fill the time, Benny approaches another subject. “So, when are you finally going to let me see your tattoo?” 

Dean has been strange about it, protective. Every time Benny’s asked about it, Dean gets squirrelly and says that he just rebandaged it, or he’s on his way out. “When it’s healed.” 

“Oh, come on. I know for a fact that they are supposed to breathe, and I’ve been asking for over a week. Why won’t you let me see it?” 

“I will...once it’s healed.” 

“Did they screw it up? Is that why you won’t let me see it? Is it terrible?” 

“What? No!” Dean denies. “It looks amazing.” 

“Then why won’t you let me see it?” 

“See what?” Cas asks as he sits down again, meeting Dean’s eye significantly at his relocation. Dean grins and winks in return. 

Benny jumps in with both feet. “I still haven’t seen his tattoo. Ridiculous, right?” 

Cas tilts his head at Dean in scrutiny. He notices the faint flush on his cheeks. “No, not ridiculous. Tattoos are personal. I have one that no one but Dean and my tattoo artist have seen.” 

Dean smiles in vindication. Benny rolls his eyes and mutters, “I should have known you’d side with him.” 

He goes to get their next round, and Cas leans in to remind Dean, “You don’t need to feel so proprietary with that one. I’m designing something special for you that you can put somewhere private.” 

Dean licks his lips and meets Cas’s eye, desire weighing down his lids. “Yeah? My permanent mark?” 

Cas bites his in response. It’s a surprisingly coy act for him. “Exactly.” 

“What is it?” 

Cas shakes his head. “I’m still working on it. You’ll find out when it’s done.” 

“You’re not going to tell me anything about it?” 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Cas, c’mon. You can’t expect me not to be chomping at the bit after the first one you designed.” 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says, even though he’s not at all. 

Dean leans in closer to his ear. “Can I tempt you into a hint?” 

“No.” 

A subtle little lick under his ear makes Cas close his eyes and shiver. “Please?” Dean whispers. 

Not willing to give in to manipulation, Cas sits back with narrowed eyes. “Dean, you could drop to your knees and blow me right here, and I still wouldn’t tell you anything.” 

Dean runs his tongue behind his teeth, a dangerous look in his eye. He pushes his chair backwards and puts a knee on the floor. Cas grabs his arm in alarm. “What are you doing?” 

Dean gives him a cheeky grin. “Making a liar out of you.” 

“I’m not interrupting a proposal, am I?” Benny asks as he sets down the bottles and frosty mugs. 

As Cas runs a hand through Dean’s hair, he explains, “No, Dean’s getting on his knees for an entirely different reason.” There’s enough innuendo in the statement to make Benny splutter and blush. Dean knocks his hand away and sits back in his chair muttering about Cas being a spoilsport. 

Dean chews on his lip for a minute before announcing, “Okay. I’ll let you see it. You’re right. It’s time.” 

Carefully, he peels the tape away from the bandage, hissing at the hair being yanked out along the way. When he removes the tape and extends his forearm, Benny gawks. “Ho-ly shit. That is gorgeous!” 

“I know, right?” Dean beams. “Cas is a genius.” 

Benny’s shock turns to the other man. “You’re a tattoo artist?” 

“No, just an artist. I did the artwork and my friend did the tattoo.” 

“That is- wow. It’s unbelievable.” 

Now that Dean is sharing it, he’s exuberant about making sure that Benny understands it all. As he’s pointing out the intricate symbolism, Cas looks around the bar. This isn’t his typical crowd, but no one seems to be overly interested in them or in causing problems, so he brings his focus back to the table. He’s happy to meet Benny, he really is, but what he really wants is to take Dean home. Alone. Unfortunately, that isn’t going to happen because the other two men are roommates. 

He learns a lot about Dean’s roommate over the next hour. They’ve been friends since they were ten years old. Benny had moved to Nantucket from the Deep South, and he never bothered to try to lose the accent. In a place like Nantucket, having an accent made him stand out, and he has always been one to trade in on an advantage. Benny was the one that Dean leaned on when life with Sam got difficult, and then impossible. He was Dean’s rock when Sam died. They attended BU together and had been roommates for the past seven years. 

If Cas hadn’t also learned that Benny was whole-heartedly heterosexual, he might have become jealous of their closeness. Instead, he can appreciate Benny for being such a loyal friend to Dean during the hardest period of his life. 

“Alright, gentlemen,” Benny says after checking his phone. “Andrea’s home from her shift at St. Anthony’s, so I’m going to head out.” 

“You coming home tonight?” 

“Nah, I’ll pass out there.” Benny turns to Cas and offers his hand. “It was really good to finally get to know you better.” 

“Same to you,” Cas replies, honest but still guarded. 

When he’s gone, Dean leans in, “Can I take you home with me, Cas?” 

As they get up from the table, Cas quips, “You’d better. I’ve been dreaming of your bed all week.” 

“Just using me for my memory foam, huh?” 

Cas grins wide. “Yeah, it has nothing to do with the great company or the phenomenal sex. It’s the bed.” 

 

***** 

 

Cozied up on Dean’s couch, Cas is having some severely inappropriate thoughts. Actually, they’re memories of the last time he was here. His dick is filling in interest just remembering the things they’ve done to each other on this couch. Or in front of the couch. Or leaning against it. Damn. 

Dean catches Cas running an appreciative hand over the leather when he returns to the room. “Benny can never, ever know what we’ve done on his couch. He’d skin us both alive.” 

“I’ll take it to my grave, sweetheart.” His teasing stops when he sees that Dean is holding something behind his back. “What did you do?” 

Dean shrugs, but he can’t hide his bright smile. Whatever it is, Dean is happy with it, so Cas will try not to be a grumpy asshole about him doing something else for him. 

Dean sits facing him and Cas waits patiently for him to explain. “Okay, do you remember that morning in your room when you realized that you didn’t know if you were actually Irish?” 

Cas tilts his head and confirms hesitantly, “Yes, my existential crisis was quite memorable.” 

“Yeah, it was memorable to me too, so I got something for you.” From behind his back, he pulls a white box with the words Ancestry DNA on it. Cas is holding it with the strangest look on his face, so Dean rushes to explain. 

“It’s a DNA test that can tell you exactly what your heritage is. If you turn out to be Irish, it can tell you the percentage and even what part of Ireland you come from. If you come from other nationalities, no matter how small of a percentage, it can tell you.” Cas is still staring at the box, eyes unblinking, lips parted. 

Dean continues, gently touching Cas’s back. “This one also connects to a massive database that people use for genealogy, so it might be able to help you find out more about your ancestors, too.” 

Cas looks up at him then. His eyes are brimming with vulnerability that Dean has never seen on him. He searches Dean’s face for long, silent minutes, like he doesn’t understand what he is seeing. 

“Did I overstep?” Dean finally asks. 

Cas shakes his head and pulls him in for a constricting embrace. He’s holding on like Dean is his life raft. “No, no. You didn’t overstep. You-it's just. You gave me my history, Dean.” 

The cracking in Cas’s voice is so unexpected that Dean’s eyes water in sympathy. For the hundredth time, Dean wishes he could go back in time to take away Cas’s pain, his neglect. He doesn’t say anything; he just waits for Cas to process what he has in his hands. 

“Can I do it now?” Cas asks. 

“Of course.” He pulls back and lets his arm drop. Cas opens the box warily, caution in every movement. Dean grabs his laptop from the coffee table and goes to the company’s website. They work through the steps of activating the kit and filling the test tube with saliva. Cas is not a rule follower, so his adamant adherence with each and every step makes Dean smile. 

When they have everything packaged back up in the sterile materials and then the shipping box, Cas exhales on a laugh. “In a couple of weeks, I’ll know where I come from.” 

Dean grins. “That’s the idea.” 

“Don’t be flippant. This is an amazing gift, Dean. Thank you.” 

“It’s my pleasure, Cas. I’m glad you liked it.” 

“How did you think to do this?” 

Dean shrugs. “We have to request a lot of genetic testing for the kids going through the system, so that brought it to mind. Obviously, I can’t request that for you through the state, so I started looking at commercial companies. This one seemed to be the best.” 

Cas stares at Dean with obvious appreciation. “You’re the most thoughtful person I’ve ever known, Dean Winchester.” 

Dean ducks his head and sets the laptop down. “Would you like a beer?” 

“Smooth. I didn’t see that misdirection coming at all.” 

Dean rolls his eyes and heads to the kitchen. “I don’t take compliments well. Sue me.” 

Cas waits until he returns before he challenges, “But you do take praise very well, don’t you?” 

Dean’s glad he hadn’t taken a sip yet. Even without the beer, he chokes and sputters. Cas is feeling like himself again, apparently. Dean feels his heated gaze like a tangible weight. 

It isn’t the first time they’ve mentioned their experiment with power dynamics this week. In fact, it has come up quite a bit. It usually started a blistering round of phone sex. Not sexting, though, because neither one of them liked the awkwardness of sexting. Besides, why would Dean ever give up an opportunity to have that whiskey deep voice rumbling filth into his ear? 

The smug smirk on Cas’s face needs to be wiped away. Immediately. Dean sets his beer down, eyes not leaving Cas for a second. Climbing into his lap, Dean grinds down with a particularly nasty swivel of his hips. “You know what else I take really well?” 

Cas hums appreciatively as he palms Dean’s hips, letting him continue working their denim-covered cocks together. “Yes, I know exactly how well you take me, baby. Any chance you’re up for giving me a demonstration?” 

“In what universe would I not be up for you fucking me, Cas?” 

Cas stares up at him, galaxies full of stars in his eyes. “Damn, I am a lucky man.” 

“Yes, you are. Now, take me to bed.” 

Cas huffs out a laugh and sets Dean back on his feet so he can stand. “Bossy,” he mutters. 

“You like me bossy.” He turns a cheeky smile back to where Cas is following him down the hall. “Except when I’m wearing your collar.” 

Cas hesitates for a step or two, and Dean notices. “What?” 

“Have you decided, then?” 

“Cas, we discussed this already.” 

The head tilt is more severe than Dean has seen it in a while. He fights back a smile because Cas looks suddenly serious. 

“Explain what you think we decided.” 

Dean sits down on his bed and waits for Cas to join him. “You asked me if I would want to be your submissive again, and I said yes.” 

Cas runs his hand through his hair, turning it into the chaos that Dean loves. “That’s some revisionist bullshit if I’ve ever heard it.” 

“Cas, please don’t pick a fight about this,” Dean sighs. 

“This is not a fight. I asked you to think about some things that I felt were important and you said you would.” 

“You’re going to make me talk about this right now, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, since you brought it up.” 

“Technically, you started it by bringing up my praise kink.” 

Cas crosses his arms over his chest, and Dean flops back on the bed in exasperation. After a long pause, Cas crawls up and lays on his side next to him. “You’re normally so open about sex. Why does this bother you so much?” 

Dean looks over at him. “It just feels ridiculous. Why can’t we just be spontaneous?” 

“Because some of the things I want to do with you could be dangerous if we don’t plan ahead.” 

“You mean like asphyxiation? That kind of dangerous?” Dean knows he’s making a valid point, and from Cas’s sigh, he knows it, too. “Dean, I know we’ve already explored a lot of kinks together without setting ground rules, but maybe we should.” 

“Do you not trust me to know my limits and communicate with you?” 

“You’ve never given me reason not to trust you, but I’ve also seen you deny yourself unnecessarily.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Cas kisses his furrowed brow before continuing. “Do you remember at the hotel? After that intense spanking, you were dropping hard and you almost didn’t let me take care of you. You denied me the same way last week.” 

Dean can only concede with an explanation. “The whole aftercare thing makes me feel weird.” 

“Why?” 

“It feels contrived.” 

“Explain?” Cas asks as his fingers drift through Dean’s hair. 

“Well, in any other situation, I don’t need someone treating me like a china doll, so why would I need that after one particular type of sex act? I mean, we’ve had some seriously exhausting, savage sex and neither of us brought up aftercare. We just took care of each other.” 

“So it’s not that you don’t agree with me caring for you?” 

“No, Cas. I love that you want to treat me well, I just don’t like it to be scripted. If you feel like massaging my lower back when you’ve fucked me hard, that’s awesome and appreciated. If you want to soak in the tub with me and talk, I’m all for it. But I don’t ever want you to do it because it’s on some agenda or checklist.” 

Cas nods along with Dean’s explanation, so he continues. “Plus, it feels very one-sided if it’s all focused on me.” 

“That’s because of the emotional and physical strain you’re put under.” 

“And you’re not?” Dean scoffs. “Cas, the other day, you fucked me six times. In one day. And then you woke up in the middle of the night and sucked me off. Are you telling me that you weren’t wrung out and dead tired by the end of it?” 

“No, you’re right. I was pretty fucking tired.” 

“So, you were happy that I brought you that bottle of coconut water and a granola bar and made you finish them before you fell back asleep?” 

“Yes, it was thoughtful.” 

“Exactly my point. We already take care of each other. You’re always paying attention to what I need, anticipating what will make me happy. That is so much more important to me than some mandatory care session.” 

Cas hums in contemplation. “Okay, I think you’re right. For us, that would feel stilted.” Before Dean can think to enjoy his victory, Cas amends, “But I need you to promise me two things.” 

“Okay...” 

Cas turns Dean’s head to look him straight in the eyes. “You have to be one hundred percent honest with me about what you need, no matter how stupid or embarrassing it might seem to you.” 

“And?” 

“When I do want to do something for you that you perceive as aftercare, don’t dismiss me. If I’m doing something, it’s because I want to.” 

Dean reaches over and pulls Cas in for a kiss. Against his lips, he apologizes. “I didn’t mean to be dismissive. It’s just sometimes hard to accept kindness. I promise to do better.” 

Cas licks into his mouth, partly to seal their agreement, partly because he can’t help himself. Dean’s sweetness is his own personal brand of heaven, and he’s been starving for it since they parted over a week ago. Feeling Dean’s hands grip him tightly, his mind shifts over to the thought that’s been consuming him for days. 

“Hey, can I talk to you about something else?” 

Dean pulls back to look at him. “Of course.” 

Cas has gone over and over this scenario, and he just can’t wrap his head around it. “Why did you choose touching me over orgasm?” 

Dean grins. “Aww. That’s cute that you need me to boost your ego.” 

Cas rolls his eyes at him. “Dean, I’m being serious.” 

He almost laughs. Almost. But Cas is serious, so he will answer in earnest. “That’s what I needed.” 

“But if you had chosen to come, you could have touched me afterwards.” 

Dean chuckles. “Sure, but that would be cheating and therefore disobedient. Right?” 

Cas nods, still perplexed. “You asked me to choose. I chose what was most important to me.” 

Dean cups his jaw, stroking his stubbly cheek with his thumb. “What’s got you so twisted up about this, Cas?” 

“I had been edging you all day, and I thought with absolute certainty that you would choose to come. I planned to give you the most explosive orgasm of your life, and instead, you chose touch. I just don’t understand it.” 

“It wasn’t that putting my hands on someone was more important, Cas. It was because I needed you. That’s the difference,” Dean confesses. 

Cas still looks flummoxed, so Dean resolves to make him understand. “Okay, how about I show you what I mean.” 

He looks skeptical, but agrees. Dean sits up and strips off his clothes and gestures for Cas to do the same. He lays back down on his side and asks Cas to mirror him. 

“Alright, we’re going to lay here and talk, but you absolutely can not touch me in any way. No kissing, no brushing against each other. No contact at all, okay?” 

Cas raises an eyebrow. “Why would I agree to that?” 

“Because I’m trying to show you what mindset I was in. I don’t think you’ll understand it without feeling it yourself.” 

“Probably, but what’s to prevent me from just taking what I want?” 

“I can assign a punishment if you want, but I think you’ll behave.” 

“Why would I do that?” 

“Because it’s what I want.” 

Cas’s heart stops and then comes back online with a tremendous thud. He is right, of course. The power Dean has over him is absolute. It’s horrifying and perfect. Even if he fights it, he will succumb eventually. Dean is quicksand, and all his thrashing around will do nothing but take him down faster. Best to just be still and let it happen. 

He can see the moment that Cas agrees; he doesn’t need to hear him say it. Dean looks over his body with open appreciation. There is nothing about Cas that he doesn’t admire. His gaze lingers over his favored spots: the hollow of his throat; his dark, pebbled nipples; the elegant column of his neck; the wide, petal-soft lips. This little exercise is for Cas’s benefit, but it’s driving Dean’s need as well. He yearns to touch his lips to every available inch of him. Teasing them both after being apart for so long might not have been his smartest idea. 

He inches closer to his boyfriend, until there are just millimeters separating them. He smiles on a breathy exhale. “It’s been so long since we’ve been together, I think I was starting to forget some of your details.” 

“In just a week? I must not be that memorable,” Cas teases, as he conducts his own inventory of Dean’s body. It’s difficult while being so close, but there is enough to get lost in at this proximity. 

“Forget might be the wrong word. I’m reacquainting myself. If my memory kept all of those intimate details of you at the forefront of my mind, I’d never get anything done.” 

“What details?” 

“The exact timbre of your voice, the precise color of your eyes.” Dean licks his lips, “The taste of you.” Cas’s eyes dilate at that thought. 

“You talk about how I taste, but I don’t think I’ve ever told you what you taste like.” 

“And how do I taste?” 

“It changes subtly, but you always taste so masculine. It’s like I can taste the pheromones on your skin. There’s a spice to you, like the sharpness of whiskey and the headiness of cloves.” Dean breathes in deeply as if he’s trying to take him in. “Always delicious.” 

Dean is so close, and it’s like being next to a radiator. The heat of him is warming the surface of his own skin and soaking in. All it would take is the slightest of movements, and he could feel that heat under his fingers. He won’t though. He will do as Dean asks, but he can’t help but comment. “You’re putting off so much heat.” 

Dean grins, “It’s because I want you, Cas.” 

“That’s not fair.” 

“When I was obeying you and denying the urge to touch you, you were fucking me. You were literally inside my body, giving me such incredible pleasure. How is mentioning my desire for you not fair?” 

Cas closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath. “Besides, it isn’t a competition. I’m helping you understand me.” 

Cas nods and opens his eyes. “Look at me, Cas.” Dean leans back just enough for them to see the rest of his body. Dean’s cock is hard and so close to Cas’s own erection that he has to bite back a whine. “Do you know how good it would feel to rub against you? To feel your gorgeous cock on me? In me?” 

Their eyes meet again, and they share panted breath. Dean keeps talking, driving him higher. “I love how full I am with you in my mouth. The velvet of you on my tongue.” Cas knows the exact sensations of Dean sucking him, feels a phantom mouth on him as he remembers. 

“Fuck,” he whimpers, fisting his hand against his side. “You’re killing me, Dean.” 

“Oh no, try hours of this. Hours of being inundated by you and just having to take it.” Dean is clenching and releasing muscles, shifting his hips, anything to displace the lust consuming him. 

Cas is registering every move, feels the rhythm of him as if he’s being carried by waves. Just like the ocean, he feels the potential energy churning, building, ready to engulf him. 

Dean’s eyes dart over his features, blown pupils seeing too much of Cas’s desire. He bites his lip and blushes, which tears down yet another of Cas’s defensive walls. Fuck Helen of Troy. Dean, in all of his coy and kinky splendor, could make any man want to offer him the world. 

“My favorite part of sucking your cock is swallowing your come,” Dean shares, little pained sounds escaping on his labored exhales. “I love the idea that part of your body nourishes mine.” 

“Jesus, Dean,” Cas curses, his body fighting to reach for him. Instead, he fists a hand in his own hair. 

“You like that idea, don’t you?” 

“Yes, fuck. That’s insanely hot.” 

“Mmm. I agree.” Dean’s hand runs over his own chest, fingers splayed and gripping. 

“I’ve missed you so much, baby. I need you.” With every breath, Cas pulls in more and more of Dean’s scent. This close, he can almost taste it, and it’s making his mouth water. 

“You’ll have me soon enough. When you can touch, what do you want to do to me, Cas?” 

“Everything,” he growls. 

“Nothing stands out?” 

“I want you in my lap, riding my cock. I can get the deepest that way.” 

“Yes, yes. That’s perfect,” Dean moans. 

“When?” Cas pleads, his mouth hovering over Dean’s. The humid air between them is delicious. 

“Soon,” he whispers. 

Losing himself is so easy, Cas thinks. Dean is all he can think about, everything he wants. His fingers tremble to pull his body closer. “Please, Dean.” 

“Not yet.” 

Cas huffs out a whimper. 

“I know. It’s so hard to deny yourself of what’s right in front of you.” 

“I always want you,” Cas promises fiercely. “No amount of distance will change that.” 

“Fuck, Cas.” Dean’s voice is shaking. “I’m aching for you.” 

 

Cas’s resolve snaps and he pounces, knocking Dean onto his back. His hands are suddenly full of heat, velvety skin over hard muscle. His mouth covers Dean’s before he can protest. Dean groans as his hands join in to deliver worshipful caresses. He slants his mouth against Cas’s full lips, nipping at them with sharp teeth. 

“How do you feel right now?” Dean asks. 

“Relieved,” Cas admits. “And so turned on I don’t know how I’m going to last long enough to make this good for you. 

After another deep, searching kiss, Dean sighs. “I’m right there with you. I have some good news, though.” 

“What’s that?” Cas asks as he grinds down against him. 

Dean grabs his hand and slides it between his legs. Cas tries to grip his full, leaking cock, but Dean guides him lower. His fingers slide along his crease and find curved glass. 

“Holy shit, baby.” He thinks back and realizes that Dean wouldn’t have had time to put the plug in while they’ve been together. “You’ve been wearing this all night?” 

Dean nods with a sly smile. Cas kisses him soundly and praises, “You’re absolutely perfect.” 

Cas pushes himself up to his knees and moves to sit against the headboard of Dean’s bed. He urges Dean to come straddle him and he works the plug out quickly. Dean grips the headboard as Cas stretches him on his fingers. 

“You did a great job with prep, sweetheart. You’re so fucking wet.” 

Dean moans and commands, “Enough. Fuck me, Cas.” 

Cas obeys instantaneously, lining himself up and nudging into Dean’s drenched hole. Looking down into his eyes, Dean lets gravity take him all the way down. Both of their mouths open on sounds of contentment. One of Dean’s hands drifts down into his hair at the nape of his neck. It starts off tender; just the full, slick, slide of Cas taking his place in Dean’s body. Their teasing foreplay pushed their lust too high, though, and they decide together, without the necessity for words, to chase a quick, explosive release. 

Cas uses his hands to hold Dean up while he plants his feet for leverage. If Cas is the power, hammering up into Dean’s hole, Dean is the finesse. His hips roll and his back arches; he snaps them and grinds down, working every inch of Cas’s cock. 

Normally, their fucking is peppered with dirty talk. They both love adding commentary, whipping each other into a frenzy with their wishes and desires. This time, all of their words have been spoken. It is too urgent; they just need to feel. So they gasp, moan, and shout out broken syllables of each other’s names. Cas comes first, his head tossed back in bliss. Dean leans down to kiss and suck along the length of his neck, nipping at the tendons straining as his body seizes up in orgasm. 

Cas chuckles at the sated fuzziness that falls over him like a blanket. The afterglow can wait. Pushing himself forward, he knocks Dean to his back. Maneuvering Dean’s hips higher into his lap, he gets the perfect angle to hit his prostate on every thrust. Taking Dean’s cock in hand, he jacks him in perfect counterpoint to the long, dragging strokes inside him. 

Dean adores this angle, and Cas loves to watch him come undone while he’s laid out like a feast. Dean stretches his arms over his head, basking in the glorious feelings. Dean’s mouth drops open on a moan, and he can’t stop the sounds after that. Pure pleasure, pulled up from his soul. 

Cas purrs, “That’s it, baby. Tell me how good you feel.” 

“So fucking good,” he whimpers. “Cas, I-” His words are lost to a waterfall of sweet agony, his cock spurting out pearly come in high arcs. It falls all over his chest, while his ass squeezes around the thickness of Cas. 

He sucks in deep breaths, coming back to himself when he feels Cas licking and sucking up the pooling come on his body. “Christ, you are too sexy for your own good,” Dean laughs and watches him crawl up his body to enjoy some fucked-out kisses. 

When his arms start to shake, the exertion taking its toll, he flops down next to Dean. He grins at Dean. “Are you kidding? You could make a killing in porn. With your beauty and the obscene sounds you make? You’d be a millionaire.” 

Dean grabs a pillow and smacks it half-heartedly in Cas’s face. “There will be no porn in my future. Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize. It wouldn’t be a good idea anyway.” 

“Yeah, why’s that?” 

“I’d be in prison inside a week.” 

Dean quirks a smile. “You don’t think you could handle me being in porn?” 

Cas levels him with one raised brow. “Were you absent when I got crazy jealous of your police escort?” 

“Hmm. Yeah, no sex work in my future, I suppose,” Dean teases and trails a hand over Cas’s torso, eyeing him like a delectable treat. “Although, we would be blistering hot together on camera, wouldn’t we?” 

With that thought, he wanders away to the kitchen. 

“Damn, I can’t believe I ever thought he was an innocent choir boy.”

***** 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Comments are life.
> 
>  
> 
> [Find me on Tumblr here](https://angelaland.tumblr.com)


	18. Can't Pretend to be Unaffected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean have to work to fit each other into their daily lives, but normal doesn't stay normal for long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, dear readers. 
> 
> I know I've been away from this story for a while, and a lot of it had to do with what happens in this chapter. I was worried about writing it and doing it justice, so I put it on the shelf. Now that it's done, I feel like I hit the feelings I needed to hit, and paid attention to the important 'themes'. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it. I'd love to hear what you think.

Cas wanders through the vacant warehouse while the realtor escorts Dean toward another of its ‘finest features’. All Cas sees are dollar signs with an obscene number of zeros. 

When Dean had pleaded with him to join the quest for finding the perfect location for his youth center, he was happy to oblige. Dean values his knowledge of the area, and has asked many questions about transportation, neighborhood reputations, and gang affiliations. He’s being tactically smart with his decisions, and Cas is incredibly impressed, to be honest. 

The money is freaking him the fuck out, though. He’d thought that Dean was probably looking for an old house to be the base camp of his program, not a full warehouse that takes up an entire city block. The one they’re in now is over 23,000 square feet and is selling for the bargain price of $1.9 million. 

He’s felt sick since Dean handed him the MLA listings this morning. He was rudely confronted by the chasm of differences between them for the first time in weeks, and he hasn’t been able to get his feet back under him. Dean assured him that he didn’t have that kind of cash on hand. He’s counting on the federal funding that he’s been pursuing for a little over a year. He’s in the final steps of the process, and finding the location is one of those steps. Even with federal grants, he has to put down a substantial down payment. For this particular place, Dean will have to write a check for a minimum of $300k. When the realtor broke it down for him, he didn’t even flinch. 

Cas has been playing house in his mind, envisioning a little apartment that he and Dean could move in to someday. He’s embarrassed that he’d been thinking that Dean could possibly be content with that. Christ. He’s spent time in the million dollar apartment he lives in now. He shouldn’t have been so goddamn naïve. 

“Cas, come look at this.” Dean’s excitement reverberates throughout the open building. He comes jogging around the corner, grinning ear to ear. Cas allows a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“There’s a living space. It’s already been remodeled and zoned.” 

Dean extolls the many virtues of the loft as he gives Cas a tour, including the fact that it is separate enough from the main floor to provide privacy for the tenant. It is a beautiful area, tall ceilings with metal tiles and exposed pipes. All of the surfaces and fixtures are obviously new and expensive. There are so many windows that the living area is filled with natural light. The bedrooms and bathroom are up a couple of steps, cozy little spaces with charming features. The designers obviously kept as much of the original building intact as they could. 

“Are you intending to rent it out?” Cas asks as he takes in the layout. 

Dean turns and blinks at him owlishly. “No, I’m going to move in here.” 

Cas feels a little flip in his belly. This building isn’t too far from his own, and it’s on the cusp of the area that is rapidly gentrifying. Meg’s shop is just a couple of blocks away. It's a dream loft, and Cas is already mentally packing his bags. He needs to calm the fuck down. They are not ready for this. Cas had been playing house in his future dreams, not his present ones. 

“So, what do you think?” 

Dean’s enthusiasm is transparent. He believes that he’s found not only his business location, but his new home. Part of Cas wishes that he had the right to weigh in on the decision. That this decision would be theirs to make together. He’s not kidding himself, though. It's so far above his means that Cas could never hope to afford something like this. This is Dean’s choice.

“I think it’s great, Dean. It’s big enough to grow into for years, its in a neighborhood that meets all of your criteria, and it’s close to everything you’d need. The loft is an amazing bonus.” 

Dean’s face falls a bit as he comes closer. “But?” 

When he’s in front of Cas, Dean waits for him to expound. “Dean. It’s almost two million dollars.” 

Dean smiles reassuringly. “I told you that grants will take care of most of it.” 

“Except the gigantic chunk that you have to put down. What if something happens and you’re out all that money? Could you survive a hit like that?” 

Dean looks away and down. “Cas, I’ve been saving money for this for years. This is my dream. I’ve got enough left over not to be destitute.” 

Cas takes a step back at that admission. Dean’s pockets are even deeper than he thought. They seem to be as deep as the abyss. The surreal feeling of not being in his own body is starting to overtake him; a sure sign of an oncoming panic attack. 

“Didn’t you tell me that I should live in the area if I wanted the kids to really trust me? This place gives me that. Besides, I’ll be saving money on a mortgage, so I won’t have to worry about dipping into my savings for a house.” 

“Dipping?” 

Dean huffs a sigh. “Taking a major chunk of? Is that better?” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Why is this such a sticking point for you?” 

Cas shakes his head. “Our experiences are so different, Dean. I’ve never even had a savings account, and you aren’t concerned about pulling $300 thousand out of yours.” He runs his hand through his hair and gapes at Dean. “I can’t even fathom being wealthy like that.” 

His pulse is racing, sweat is collecting at his temples. He needs some air. He’s trying to form the words to explain, and he doesn’t see Dean approach. 

Dean’s seen this look on Cas’s face before, and now his body is tense and rigid. Wanting nothing more than to soothe his stressed mind and body, Dean reaches out to cup his cheek and get Cas focusing on him. Before he makes contact, Cas flinches away from him and raises his arms to protect himself. 

The motion destroys Dean. His heart clogs his throat, and he swallows back shredding emotions. He’s seen the same reaction a thousand times. He’s watched children instinctively react to physical threats when they’ve suffered abuse. 

Is that how Cas feels about him? That he could possibly be a threat to him? There’s a gnawing pit in his stomach filled with bile, knowing that instead of being the one that Cas draws support from, that he doesn’t trust him. Dean is still standing with his hand extended, his jaw gaping open although his intended words have dissipated. His eyes blink rapidly to clear the tears. He won’t be weak enough to cry in front of him. 

Cas remains tucked into himself for several long seconds, wondering what the hell happened. Why would he react like this to Dean of all people? When he straightens out and looks at Dean, his heart aches. He looks devastated. Cas hurt him with his reaction. Oh, shit. He needs to fix this. 

“Dean,” he begins, but doesn’t have the chance to continue. He steps back and shakes his head. Cas moves toward him, but Dean stops him with raised hands. 

“Just...meet us out front when you’re ready.” The words are fragile and cracked by sadness. Dean turns to leave, and looks back just once. It’s enough for Cas to see a drop fall from his eye. 

Cas stands stunned. What the fuck is wrong with him today? He scrubs his hands over his face vigorously. He shakes his head to clear it. He can’t get that look out of his mind. Dean looked to be in the very depths of hell. If anyone else made Dean look like that, Cas would rip their throats out. 

This is not the kind of divide that they can let fester. His feet make the decision to move before he fully understands. He moves swiftly in the direction Dean took. Looking into every room along the way, he passes a small office and then backtracks when he sees a figure hunched over by the window. 

When Cas careens into the room, Dean looks up. Horrified at being caught, he turns away from Cas and wipes his damp eyes on the sleeve of his shirt. Cas grips his shoulder and turns him, gently but insistently. He keeps his head lowered, even when Cas pulls him into his embrace. 

“Dean, I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” Regret strains Cas’s voice, wobbling with emotion. “I’m having a panic attack and you surprised me.” 

Dean looks up then. “Panic attack?” He pulls back to let his eyes roam over Cas’s face, intent on observing what he missed before. 

“Oh shit. Cas, I didn’t know. I-” 

“It’s fine. I’ll be fine.” 

Dean starts to pull Cas in and then stops abruptly. “What do you need? What can I do?” 

Cas smiles and plants a chaste kiss on his lips. “I honestly don’t know. No one’s ever asked that before.” 

A furrow jumps to Dean’s brow, as if he’s offended by that fact. “Can I touch you, or is that too much?” 

Cas nods his consent, and Dean carefully winds his arms around him. Tucking his head into the side of his neck, Cas explains, “I got a little overwhelmed at the thought of that much money, and I let it spin me out into all sorts of dark thoughts.” 

Dean hums in understanding and rubs his hand over his back. “I know this is out of your wheel house, Cas, but it doesn’t affect anything between you and me. I promise.” 

“It’s just a reminder of how different we are. It felt like a warning sign that we can’t last.” 

Dean kisses his temple, “I’m not going anywhere, Cas. Whether I buy this place or stay in my current job and apartment, you are the one I want to be with. You’re the one I can’t wait to see at the end of the day. I don’t care if you don’t have two quarters to your name; I want you.” 

Cas meets his eye, tentatively trusting what he sees. “I apologize for losing my shit. I don’t have these attacks often, but when I do...” 

“You don’t have to apologize. Now that I know, I’ll be more careful.” 

“I can’t believe I reacted like that to you,” Cas laments. “I trust you, Dean. I know you’d never do anything to harm me.” 

Dean does genuinely smile at his pronouncement. “Good, because I don’t think I can handle you reacting to me like that again. You broke my heart, angel.” 

Cas squints at him and Dean laughs. “What? Don’t like that nickname?” 

“It’s a little...soft.” 

“Yeah, it’s perfect for my cuddly, squishy boyfriend,” Dean teases. Cas sets his jaw and plows into Dean, catching his hips with a shoulder and picking him up off of his feet. Dean makes a very undignified squeak of surprise. Once Cas has him stable and folded helplessly over his shoulder, he uses his other hand to pop him soundly on the ass. Dean squirms to get out of his grasp, but Cas is too strong and holds him firmly. 

“I’ll show you just how cuddly I am later,” Cas threatens. His lungs aren’t squeezing anymore and his pulse is slowing. Dean has proved to be exactly what he needed yet again. 

 

***** 

 

They struggle, but eventually fall into a routine after that rough first week back to ‘normal’ life. Figuring out ways to fit into each other’s daily lives is tricky, but instead of conceding to the complications, Dean emphatically tells Cas that he needs him by his side. Cas’s reaction is to back Dean onto his couch and kiss him senseless. He would have continued his assault if Benny hadn’t come home at that inopportune moment. 

On days when Cas isn’t at Meg’s shop, he meets Dean for lunch in Dewy Square Park, in the shadow of the building-sized art installation by Shara Hughes. They lounge in the over-sized, red Adirondack chairs and soak up the sun while they make up stories for the passers-by. Cas is great at characterization and backstory. Dean gives everyone strange kinks that make Cas laugh. 

When Cas is at his restoration class fixing up his bike, Dean often sits in and assists. Afterwards, they grab dinner somewhere and then sit on the roof of Cas’s building watching either the sunset or the stars, whichever they make it in time to see. 

One of the benefits of being at Ricky’s garage twice a week, besides spending more time with Cas, is showing off his automotive skills. Growing up with Bobby Singer as a family friend and mentor had given Dean the perfect place to spend his listless summers once he was big enough to turn a wrench. He often wonders what career he would have chosen if he hadn’t felt compelled to become a social worker when Sam died. His dad wanted him to be a lawyer, still does, but Dean had loved the hands-on, hard labor of being a mechanic. He likes the simplicity. He likes the grime, and washing it away at the end of the day. 

He’s really liking the way that Cas can’t focus tonight. Dean’s helping Ricky install a new engine as a demonstration for the class. He’s wearing a ratty t-shirt, tight-fitting work jeans, his hidden holster, and a ball cap. Every time he lifts something, or uses his arms in any way, he can sense how Cas reacts with interest. He may or may not be playing up the strain to keep Cas off kilter. When he squats down to reach under the bike, he whips his sweat rag out of his back pocket and wipes his face with it. He hears his boyfriend suck in a sharp breath, and Dean grins to himself but doesn’t react. 

When they take a break, Dean isn’t surprised to be cornered by an intense and frothing Cas. Dean shivers at the way Cas steals his space, makes him feel his electrifying presence. His big hands hold Dean’s hips to steer him where he wants him to go. 

“I was surprised to see that black bandana in your pocket, sweetheart.” Cas grabs his right ass cheek with a squeeze. “I’m going to assume that you don’t know what you are advertising by wearing it.” 

Dean licks his lips, looking through his lashes. “No, I know that code just as well as you do.” 

His head tilts with a snarl, “And you’re alright with advertising that you’re a sub looking to be dominated?” 

Dean looks at him with blatant desire. “As long as the right person gets the message.” 

Cas jolts upright and a smirk replaces his sneer. “Who were you hoping for that message to reach, baby?” 

Cas finishes his question with his lips brushing Dean’s. Fuck. Dean can’t pretend to be unaffected by this man. He’s too sexy, too dominant, too perfect. 

“My dom,” he says quietly. “I’ve been dying for him to collar me again.” 

It’s Cas’s turn to be overtly affected. He closes his eyes and curses. “God damnit, Dean. I have another hour of this class and you’ve got me hard as steel.” 

“I could suck you in the bathroom, take the edge off,” Dean suggests as a whisper in his ear. 

Cas lets him have better access to his neck while he contemplates his generous offer. Unfortunately, before he can answer, they hear Ricky calling everyone back to the garage bay where they’re working. Groaning, Cas takes a kiss and then lifts away from Dean. He adjusts himself with a regretful look. “I guess it will have to wait.” 

Dean sidles up closer to him. “If you aren’t busy tonight, Benny’s going to be over at his girlfriend’s place. Want to come over and play?” 

Cas huffs a laugh at the phrasing. Even when talking about his darker desires, Dean can’t help but be lighthearted. “Nothing would make me happier.” 

As Cas is backing away, Dean reminds him, “I’m going over to the church to pick up the equipment for the baseball game tomorrow, but I’ll be back before you’re done.” 

“Don’t dawdle. I don’t want to waste any time getting you home.” Like Dean would possibly give up a second of being the entire focus of Cas’s lust-fueled attention. 

It’s after hours, so he pulls Baby right up to the gym entrance of St. Augustine’s. Whistling as he walks through the dark gym to reach the locker room, his thoughts are entirely consumed by Cas. Before Dean walked out of the garage, Cas had whispered to him that he had something he wanted to try when they got back to his apartment. Class had started already, so Dean couldn’t even beg for a hint that he knew wouldn’t be given. Visions dance in his mind as he flips the lights on in the room. 

He’s so distracted by the possibilities that he doesn't sense that he isn’t alone until he feels the pinch of a needle in his neck. 

Immediately, his limbs loosen, his thinking gets fuzzy, and his vision is starting to tunnel. Before it goes completely black, he hears a voice triumphantly announce, “Finally.” 

 

***** 

 

Dean comes to gradually. He hears his phone ringing from a distance with Cas’s ringtone. He tries to reach out for it, but his hands are restrained. What the hell? That unexpected obstacle makes him swim for the surface with urgency. Once he’s fully awake, he stays perfectly still. He cracks his lids open just enough to see fuzzy outlines. 

He’s still in the locker room, on the floor, and apparently tied to one of the support posts. There is a man laying out some things on one of the benches, but his back is to Dean. Even without the visual confirmation, he knows that it has to be Michael. Dean has been complacent, has gotten sloppy, and now he’s in the hands of his stalker. 

His phone rings again and again. Always Cas. Dean’s head is throbbing. Whatever Michael dosed him with makes for a nasty hangover. He hopes that Cas finds him soon. If Michael gets him out of this building, he might never be found. 

Wait. Something isn’t right. Why would Michael keep him here? Why wouldn’t he have moved him already? 

The next time Dean’s phone rings, Michael huffs in annoyance and silences it. Just a few seconds later, he can hear talking from out in the gym. It gets closer and closer, and Dean would recognize that rough voice anywhere. The words start to make sense as he approaches. 

“I swear to God, Dean, this is not funny. I know you’re still at the church because your car is here. Did you drop your phone somewhere?” Dean sympathizes with the panic in his voice. “Call me back as soon as you get this message.” 

As Cas comes into view, Dean sees Michael pick up a baseball bat and tuck himself against the lockers. When he pieces everything together, Dean yells. 

“Cas, no!” is all he can think to say, but his warning has the opposite effect. Cas stops short, eyes pinned on Dean in shock. Michael swings with all his might, and it is only Cas’s honed fighting instincts that allow him to block the swing with his left arm. Even with his forearm taking the brunt of the hit, the bat connects with the back of Cas’s head as he turns away. The momentum throws him into the locker next to him and he crumples to the ground boneless. 

Dean can almost feel the impact, and the sickening crack makes his stomach rebel. Screaming his objections, his absolute refusal to believe what he just saw happen to Cas, Dean thrashes in his bindings, flailing in his attempts to get to his feet and get to his love. 

Distantly, he realizes that he feels hard metal at his back. Michael took his phone and his keys, which were in his hands, but he didn’t take his gun. He didn’t know it was there; he had old intel. 

Speaking of the psychopath, Michael smiles at him happily and speaks to him for the first time. “I’m so sorry it took me so long,” he says gently. “I never would have subjected you to the attentions of that monster if I could have gotten you away from him any sooner.” 

The surrealism of the moment twists something in Dean’s brain and makes it crack. A hysterical laugh bubbles up. This fucking animal is called his beloved Cas a monster. Michael takes his reaction for a good sign and approaches. 

Dean doesn’t know what injuries Cas has sustained, but he needs to get medical help for him. Now. He can’t waste time. Every minute counts. He needs to immobilize Boyar and get to his phone to call for help. The best way to do that is to play along with the delusional fuck. 

He shoves a passable smile onto his face and says, “Thank you. I’ve been waiting for you to rescue me.” 

Bile jumps into his throat, the false words costing him dearly. He is unclean down to his very soul and he wants to right the injustice. Not yet. 

‘Do it for Cas’ becomes his mantra. Every kind look, every word that he has to force past his lips, he convinces himself to keep going so that he can get help for Cas. 

Dean hasn’t been able to look in Cas’s direction; he doesn’t trust himself. He could ruin this ruse with just one yearning glance. Boyar is dangerous, but he isn’t stupid. You don’t kill dozens of people and get away with it by being stupid. Although, underestimating his latest victim is going to turn that tide. 

“I have a little place set up for us,” Boyar continues, sharing his plans. “It’s out of the way, so we don’t have to worry about being bothered. I think you’ll like it.” 

“Yeah? I can’t wait to see it. When are we going?” 

“I just have to pack all of this into your car, and then we can leave. Most of it is food and supplies that I took from the church kitchen. I was going to stop at a store on the way, but this is so much more convenient.” 

“Can I help you? It looks like some of it is heavy.” 

“Are you suggesting that I’m not strong enough?” Boyar's mood turns on a dime, and Dean has to tread very carefully.

“No, of course not. I know how strong you are. I just want to be useful.” 

Boyar scrutinizes him, visibly wavering in whether or not he believes Dean. “No,” he eventually decides. “That’s not a good idea. I’ll pack, and then we can go.” 

Dean is desperate to regain his freedom. “Please, Michael.” He screws up truly Oscar-worthy tears. “I can’t be in the same room with him for another minute.” 

Allowed by his subterfuge to steal a glance at Cas, he notices the completely wrong angle of his arm first. Dean gasps in horror when he sees the pool of blood forming around his head. Oh, fuck. It’s so much worse than he thought. 

He can feel that he’s panicking, that he’s too addled to make the decisions he needs to make. He isn’t sure if he can continue participating in this farce now that he’s gotten a look at Cas’s condition. Jesus, there is so much blood.   
Thank all that is holy, Boyar interprets his meltdown as evidence that Cas’s presence is scaring him. “Okay, okay. You can help me, and then you won’t ever have to see him again.” 

Michael’s lust-filled eyes coast over him, and it is all he can do not to gag. He leans over Dean, intentionally rubbing against him as he cuts the zip-ties. Dean blinks back his emotion. He has to keep it reined in until he’s in a position to get help. Boyar gives him a hand to his feet and then turns to grab a box. “Why don’t you carry that case of water?” 

Dean agrees cheerfully, but heads directly for his phone. As soon as he dials the three digit cavalry, he reaches for his weapon. He unholsters it and flips the safety off without taking his eyes from the lunatic in front of him. 

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?” That has to be the most relief he's ever felt at hearing a stranger's voice. 

“I need an ambulance to 331 Old Colony Ave.” Boyar whips around, eyes wide in rage, when he hears Dean speak. Before he can say a word, Dean levels a challenging glare and the barrel of the gun at his head. Wisely, Boyar stops moving. 

“It’s St. Augustine’s church, the gym entrance. It’s urgent. An innocent man has been injured, and it looks severe.” His voice cracks unbidden. “I also need the police. There is an attempted kidnapping in progress. It’s Detective Mill’s case.” 

When he hangs up the phone and slides it in his pocket, Boyar snarls. “He’s tainted you. I knew he’d done damage, that I’d have to burn out some of his influence, but I can’t believe you would betray me like this.” 

Dean snarls back, “I’ve had about enough of your brand of crazy, asshole. Put the box down and have a seat. Your ride will be here shortly.” 

When he looks over at Cas, Boyar tries to pull his attention back. “He’s nothing. He’s not worth your time. You deserve so much more.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Dean roars. “He is everything!” Taking a deep breath helps center him. “You’re the desperate nothing. I could never feel anything but disgust for you. How could you think I could feel otherwise after you stalked me, drugged me, and tried to take me against my will?” 

Dean taps his head with the gun in emphasis, “You need serious help.” 

“God told me that you were a righteous man, that you would be worthy of our cause.” 

“I am a righteous man, but I want no part in whatever you have planned. You’d better hope that you didn’t do any permanent damage to Cas, or I’ll make it my life’s mission to see to it that you never spend another day outside of prison.” 

Boyar is gathering a head full of steam, but Dean is ready for anything he throws at him. “You arrogant little shit,” he curses before he charges directly at Dean. 

Dean yells for him to stop, once, before he cocks the gun. He waits one more beat for Boyar to realize that he’s choosing his own fate, and then he pulls the trigger. The boom and subsequent echo rattles through the open gym, deafening them both. 

The bullet stops his forward momentum, changes every part of the equation. Boyar staggers and clutches his abdomen. He falls awkwardly, groaning and crying out in distress. Dean watches just to be sure that he isn’t able to get up, and then he runs to Cas’s side. He doesn’t feel remorse for shooting a man or joy at ending his stalker’s career; he only wants to see Cas. 

Up close, the damage makes Dean cry out. “Oh shit, Cas. This is so bad.” 

Cas’s scalp is split high on the back of his head, but he landed with his face down, so all the blood is dripping and pooling on his face. Dean turns him gently into his lap and uses his shirt to wipe away as much of the blood as he can. He takes the black handkerchief from his pocket to help slow the bleeding. How horribly their night has changed. When he presses it to the wound, a devastated sob bursts from his lips. “Oh, god, baby. Please be okay.” 

His arm is broken, the bone clearly out of place, and Dean can’t bear to look at it. Instead, he moves Cas delicately into his lap so that he can wrap him in protection. His nose pressed into Cas’s hair, he breathes him in and waits. 

 

***** 

 

Jody arrives with the first responders. She sees a paramedic kneeling by a pale, bleeding Michael Boyar. She tries not to smile, but it’s quite satisfying to see him writhing in agony after all the pain he’s caused. She hurries into the locker room to find Dean. If he made the call, he’s alive, but she wants to see him and confirm for herself. 

Stopping short when she sees him, her hand goes to her mouth. Cas is cradled in his arms, and he’s curled over him protectively. They’re both covered in blood, and Cas is out cold. She hopes that he’s just unconscious. Dean is holding out a hand to warn the EMTs away. “You can’t take him from me,” he cries. “I can’t lose him.” 

Jody nudges one of the paramedics out of the way and squats down next to Dean. She puts herself in his line of sight and says, “Hey there, Dean.” It takes way too long for him to recognize her. He’s pale and his breathing is erratic. Dean’s in shock. 

“I need to check his pulse, okay?” She slips her fingers over Cas's pulse point and is relieved to feel a steady bump. 

“I have to go with him, Jody. I can’t leave him alone.” 

“We’ll talk about that in a minute. We’re just trying to figure out what happened to him. Was he shot?” 

He shakes his head vigorously. “No, that fucking animal hit him with a bat.” Dean’s teeth are clenched and his face twisted into a grimace. “He broke his arm and he’s bleeding. He’s bleeding so much and I can’t make it stop,” he adds, words going long and distorted through his tears. 

“So how did Boyar get shot?” 

“I shot him.” Jody’s eyes go wide in surprise. She didn’t really see that coming, but she’s glad that the kid defended himself. 

“Where’s your gun now?” 

“I put it back in the holster on my belt. Take it. I know you need to test it.” Jody lifts the back of his shirt and removes the weapon. She hands it to a deputy behind her, who seals it in an evidence bag. 

“Dean, Cas needs medical care. We need to get him to the hospital. Will you let them do their job, please?” Dean nods and reluctantly lets go of him with a kiss against his forehead. The paramedics are quick to put a brace on him and get him on the gurney. 

“Please let me go with him.” Dean’s eyes are glassy, but their emotion shines brightly. The paramedic starts to rattle off policy about immediate family, but Dean stops him. “He doesn’t have family. He’s never had family. He doesn’t have anyone. Please?” 

He turns his pleading to her and Jody’s heart breaks for him. “He’s obviously in shock. He should go get checked out, too. You can fit them both in the ambulance, right?” 

She receives pursed lips and rolled eyes, but they bundle Dean along with them. He uses the gurney for support as he walks, his hand clenched around Cas’s. 

 

***** 

 

X-rays for his arm and CT scans for his head have been done; Cas’s arm has been set and put in a cast; his scalp has been stitched. Now, they wait for him to wake up. Dean has been unobstructive through most of the process. He realizes that his position at Cas’s side is tenuous at best. If he remains silent, they might not question why he is there. The only time he has voiced his opinion is when they wanted to further cut his skin to help them set the open fracture. Dean was emphatic that they not damage the artwork on his skin any more than necessary. He knows that it is something that Cas would care about. 

While they had waited for the results of the CT scans, Dean had called his mother. 

“Hey, mom.” She’d known something was tragically wrong as soon as she heard his voice. 

“Dean, what happened?” 

His chin quivered, but he sucked in a breath to steady himself. “I’m in the hospital with Cas. Michael Boyar attacked him.” 

After her initial freak out, she started asking the right questions. “You’re alright? The police have him in custody?” 

“Yes, they took him to a different hospital, but he’s in cuffs.” 

“Why does he need a hospital?” 

“I shot him.” 

Mary was silent for a moment, heart aching for what her son was going through. She swallowed it down, “Good. I’m glad you protected yourself. How is Cas?” 

Dean’s voice wobbled, but he got through the overview. He would never get the ghastly image of Cas being hit by that bat out of his head. Every time it replayed in horrifying slow motion, his stomach roiled. That could have been the moment that he lost Cas. The doctors had told him that his arm taking the brunt of the hit is what saved his life. 

 

***** 

 

Cas wakes to the worse headache of his life. His vision is fuzzy, and the dim light in the room is exacerbating his dizziness. He blinks away the confusion and finally focuses enough to realize that he’s in a hospital bed. Dean is on the bed with him, tucked against his right side so that Cas’s head is tucked against his neck, and Dean is breathing into his hair. He smiles affectionately at his boyfriend. Hearing the now familiar sound of his deep breathing, breathing in his sleepy scent, and feeling his body heat are all soothing to his otherwise pain-wracked body. 

He finds the cast when he raises his hand to touch the stinging spot on his scalp. What the hell happened? He remembers that Dean wasn’t answering his phone, and Cas went to the church to find him. After that, it’s all dark. 

He catches sight of the door opening and a blonde head poking in. She looks at him and smiles boldly. Giving him a friendly wave, she walks silently into the room. She comes up to the bed and whispers, “Hi Cas. I’m Mary, Dean’s mom.” 

As she introduces herself, she ruffles a hand through Dean’s hair. Adrenaline and worry light Cas up, and now he is wide awake. Why is she here? 

“Hi.” It’s all he can manage. 

“Dean called me earlier. He was so worried about you. I’m glad that you’ve woken up. How are you feeling, honey?” 

Cas swallows hard. The genuine concern in her eyes is a balm that he didn’t know he needed. He’s spent years imagining what it might be like to have a mother – his whole life, in fact. He never imagined that just the warmth of kind eyes could bring him back to this depth of vulnerability. He never dared hope for someone to hold his hand and brush his stray hair off his forehead. 

“Um, pretty awful, actually.” 

Dean’s eyes open when he speaks, and he sits up on his elbow. “Hey, you’re awake.” 

He turns and smiles at his mom. “I told you that you didn’t need to fly in.” 

She kisses his temple. “You were hurting. Of course I came. I’m going to go get the nurse and let them know that Cas is awake.” 

When the door closes, Dean turns back to Cas. “She didn’t interrogate you, did she?” 

“No, she was lovely.” 

Dean nods and then asks him if he remembers what happened. “No, I just remember going to the church to find you when you didn’t answer your phone.” 

Dean looks troubled, head hanging. “This is my fault.” 

He explains everything to Cas; from him being caught unaware, to how Cas was attacked, to getting his freedom and calling for help, to being forced to shoot Boyar. Tears fall from his eyes through parts of the story, and Cas aches for him. He can’t imagine what he would have felt if he had seen Dean attacked like that. 

“Hey, I’m going to be fine,” Cas promises. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m pretty tough. I’ve been hurt worse than this.” 

“Cas, if you hadn’t blocked that hit with your arm, you could have died.” 

Dean is in no mood to make light of the situation. Cas puts a hand on his cheek and leans in for a tender kiss. “But that isn’t what happened. I have a broken arm and a concussion, but nothing permanent. Don’t focus on what could have been. You’ll make yourself sick.” 

Dean sniffs and nods, meeting his eye finally. “It made me think, though, about how much can change in an instant. If I had lost you, I would have regretted so much, Cas.” 

“Yeah, like what, sweetheart?” 

He can see the fear in Dean’s eyes. His fingers, laced between Cas’s, are shaking. “I would have regretted not telling you sooner that I love you.” 

Dean’s brow furrows as the seconds tick by. He drops his gaze. “I know it’s too soon, but that’s how I feel.” 

Cas asks quietly, “How do you know? What does it feel like?” 

Dean looks back to find nothing but sincere curiosity. This is another reminder that their lives have been so different. Cas is asking him what love feels like because he’s never experienced it. 

Dean already put one foot off of a cliff by making his confession. Admitting the rest is going to make him jump off with both feet. He clears his throat and leaps. 

“It feels like all the cliques, I suppose. Flying and falling, all that. But, more importantly, you are the center of my universe. I’m overcome by you, mesmerized by every new thing I learn. I want to spend every minute with you, even though it’s not possible. When I hurt, I seek your comfort; when I’m happy, I want to share it with you. I want to protect you from harm, and I want you to do whatever makes you happy. I can’t picture my future without you.” 

Dean lifts his hand and turns it over, kissing his palm. “Losing you would have devastated me. I can’t imagine it. I don’t ever want to live it.” 

Cas takes in everything that Dean says, compares it to that strange, out of control and compulsive part of him that has reared its head lately. 

“If that’s what love feels like, Dean, then I’ve been in love with you for some time now.” 

Dean snaps his head up in surprise and laughs his joy. Wide grins mirror each other until the mood shifts and their lips meet in an adoring kiss. 

Mary opens the door silently, but when she sees the sweet, intimate scene unfolding inside, she backs out and tells the nurse to come back later.

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Find me on Tumblr here](https://angelaland.tumblr.com)


	19. Intertwining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their ordeal with Michael Boyar, Cas and Dean heal. They spend time with Dean's family in Nantucket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers!
> 
> It looks like there are four chapters remaining in this saga. There are some bumps ahead of them, but also a very sweet happy ending.
> 
> Enjoy!

Dean sighs, rubbing hands over tired eyes. Cas rubs his back gently in solidarity. Jody has been in his hospital room for what feels like hours now. Honestly, it might actually be hours. Cas keeps slipping back into the dark solitude of sleep, so he’s only heard bits and pieces of Dean’s story. Those details are enough.

He wishes that he could stay awake long enough to listen to everything that Dean had to endure at Michael’s hands, but he also wants to scrub the details from his brain so he can remain blissfully ignorant. Thankfully, Dean was only in his hands for about two hours, so other than suffering the effects of being drugged and tied up, he escaped unscathed. 

Jody told them her deputies found incontrovertible evidence at Michael’s hideaway, and that is what has Cas seeing red. Apparently, not only was there a bed with chains installed at the head and foot of it, but also a wrought iron cage, and a treasure trove of torture implements. The scene they uncovered answered the question of where Michael had been for the past weeks, and gave an all too clear picture of what he intended to do to Dean once he got his hands on him. 

They also found a stash of trophies and photos in a lock box, which link Boyar to at least seven open murder cases. 

The mental pictures Cas created from her report are making him more than a little homicidal. Every time the visuals pop up in his mind, he feels consuming rage. Getting red-faced and breathing like a bull causes his head to pound like his brain is ready to break free from its cage and take on Boyar by itself.  
The nurses have come in repeatedly to suggest a different location for their conversation, but Cas keeps refusing their interventions. They scowl at him, bring ice packs for the goose egg on his head, and glare at the detective; but they leave them to their business. 

Because Dean is in the FBI database already because of his job, and he voluntarily handed over his weapon at the scene, he is free to go when Jody has all of her questions answered. Of course, he isn’t going anywhere yet. Not until Cas is released.

“Once he’s recovered from surgery, he’ll be heading straight to Devens.” Jody assures them as she stands to leave. Devens is a federal prison that is also a psychiatric hospital. Dean is encouraged by the placement because he is well aware of Michael Boyar’s psychosis. Once he’s there, it’s doubtful that he will ever leave. 

Before she does go, Jody also encourages Cas to file assault and attempted murder charges against Boyar. He has to battle his lifelong instincts not to rat anyone out to the police because this time, he’s on the right side of the law. The more charges that are filed against the psychopath, the longer he will be behind bars. 

*****

 

After Jody leaves the hospital with the official version of events for the police report, Cas begins work on the doctors. They agree to discharge him only after Dean promises to take him home and care for him. Mary calls John’s car service to take them all back to the apartment, which Cas didn’t realize was a thing anywhere but in the movies. 

Sitting in the backseat of the luxurious town car, on the way back to Dean’s posh Back Bay address, Cas feels the world tilt. The nurses warned him that the concussion would likely cause some roller coaster emotions. Still, having another panic attack within a few weeks worries him. Despite his concerns, he can’t do anything but ride it out. 

He leans into Dean, absorbing his body heat and comfort as he breathes through the nausea. Hearing Dean and his mother talk quietly gives him something to focus on. After a few minutes, Dean asks quietly enough to be private, “Hey, what’s wrong, baby?” 

“Symptom of the concussion,” he says back.

Dean leans away to take in his face. His fingers subtly press against the pulse point on his wrist. He frowns, but accepts the weak smile Cas gives him. “I’ll be fine.”

“I want you to be better than fine, Cas.”

“That fucker is enduring a painful gut shot, multiple surgeries, and federal prison. I can handle headaches and a panic attack.”

Cas flops down on the couch as soon as they make it through the door. Mary flits about, trying to make them comfortable. She brings Cas a blanket and a pillow in case he wants to nap on the couch. Dean settles in next to him and pulls Cas closer to lean against his chest. 

“I love my mother dearly, but this is one thing that drives me crazy. She will fuss and hover until she passes out tonight. There’s nothing I can do to rein it in, either.”

“Keep feeding her wine. Maybe she’ll pass out earlier.”

“Dean!” Mary calls from the kitchen, “You have nothing to eat in this apartment.”

“There’s beer and mustard. Can’t you make something out of that?” His irreverence just winds her up more. She smacks his head on the way past him to scoop up her purse. 

“I taught you better than this,” she points accusingly. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he agrees sheepishly. “I was just kidnapped, though.” His pout is ridiculous, and she rolls her eyes. 

“You only get to play that card two more times, young man. Choose them wisely. I’m going to the store and then to that Indian place you like. Okay?”

Dean looks down at Cas’s drowsy eyes. “You okay with Indian food?”

Cas nods and murmurs something that sounds like masala. Dean chuckles and translates. “Get a Chicken Tikka Masala and Veggie Biryani. We’ll split it.”

Mary smiles broadly. “You are good with him. I’ve never seen this side of you, darling boy.”

It’s Dean’s turn to roll his eyes. “I’m not always a dick.”

“That’s not what I mean. You take good care of him.”

Dean blushes and looks down at the chaotic swirl of hair sinking lower as gravity wins out. “He takes care of me, too. I’m lucky to have him.”

“You’re lucky to have each other.” Mary winks and shuts the door behind her.

****

It only takes Cas four days to become completely bored out of his gourd. He’d thought that having access to cable for the first time would be life-changing. Turns out, there really isn’t that much on TV even with hundreds of channels. 

He can’t read because his head is still throbbing at regular intervals, and it hurts his arm to hold his sketchbook while he draws, so he hardly gets any work done. Meg and his customers are obviously understanding about time tables, but he’s just so bored. 

The only bright spot in his day is when Dean takes him out for short excursions when he gets home. 

They visit his college campus and Cas listens while Dean reminisces about his days there. He was a frat boy, which comes as no surprise to Cas at all. Often, they get takeout and eat it in Boston Common. Dean always brings a book and reads to Cas so he doesn’t strain his eyes.

They visit the Museum of Fine Art as soon as Cas feels that he can make the trip without wanting to puke from the dissident motion of the subway train. The galleries filled with inspiration and beauty heal Cas like nothing else can. 

For the first time in what might be his life time, Cas decides that he wants something, and he goes after it. Without Dean even coercing him, Cas signs up for a beginning painting class that starts the following Wednesday.

After the first two weeks, Cas is well enough to go back to his apartment. He is able to focus more, and should be able to work more hours, too. To be honest, though, he’s in no hurry to go back to his life in South Boston. It isn’t the luxurious surroundings, although they’re nice too. It’s being a constant and expected part of Dean’s life. That’s the real draw.

*****

Cas shows up early to his first painting class, his backpack full of the required supplies. The room is large and airy with natural light filling it from the skylights in the ceiling. 

The instructor is an older woman, stick thin with short gray hair. Her style is bold and eclectic, exactly like he would think an art teacher should look. She looks him over shrewdly as he settles in, nodding her acknowledgment as their eyes meet. 

“Can I help you set up?” he asks after sitting uselessly for a minute. 

“That would be very helpful, thank you…” She extends the statement, obviously waiting for him to tell his name. 

“Uh, Castiel. Cas.”

“Thank you, Cas. I’m Judith.”

Once she explains what she wants him to put at every station, they work in silence for several minutes. 

“So tell me, Cas. What brings you here today?”

He tilts his head and squints at the question. “I want to learn how to paint?”

She smiles at his answer. “Obviously. Why here and why now?”

Cas nods his head in understanding. “I’ve mastered drawing and I’ve never had the opportunity to work with paint. My boyfriend encouraged me to take the class after we saw a demonstration in the museum.”

“Mastered, huh? Do you have any of your work with you?”

Cas taps the paintbrush in his hand against his palm as he decides. She recognizes the hesitation. 

“You aren’t required to show me your work. I just want to be able to tailor the class to your ability level.”

Judith returns to her preparation, letting Cas decide his next step. He comes to her a minute later, fidgeting with a sketchbook in his hand. The cast on his other arm looks as if it is hiding a story, but she doesn’t ask for him to explain.

Finally, he hands it to her and hurriedly returns to the supply table to keep filling the student stations. She sucks in a surprised breath when she opens the book. She thought he was being a cocky little shit when he claimed mastery over drawing. He was being humble, in her estimation.

She continues to study page after page, mentally cataloging his significant skill set while she absorbs each piece as a whole as well. 

“Cas.” He flinches, but looks up at her. She can tell that he is dreading her critique. 

“You certainly have mastered this medium. Your work is beautiful. You have a mature voice, a gift for realism that I’ve rarely seen.”

He tentatively breathes and nods. “Thank you. That’s charitable.”

She hands his book back, scrutinizing this unpolished young artist. How does such a brilliant talent get to be an adult without ever painting?

“Once you get the basics down, I think you will be able to master painting very quickly. You’re already an accomplished artist, which is the part that most people will never be able to claim. I look forward to seeing your talent blossom here.”

 

After Judith has showed them the basics of brush care, preparing a canvas, and a variety of different brush shapes, they are allowed to practice. Cas picks up a medium-sized angled brush and saturates the tip with vibrant crimson. It only takes a few strokes for Cas to fall completely in love with painting. 

By the end of the first week, he has a completed painting, an impressionistic landscape of Pleasure Bay, where he and Dean had watched the vibrant colored kite boards soar through the air. He hangs the canvas in his room over his bed proudly. It is the first bit of his own art that he has ever put on display.

 

*****

 

Wind whipping through his hair and forcing his eyes to tear, Cas has never felt so free. The engine’s vibrations have made his body numb and tingling again after the respite of the ferry ride. 

Dean feeds him directions by hand gesture, tapping him and pointing out his turns. Cas loves the warmth of him curved tightly around his back. Dean fits around him like a coat tailored for his unique shape. 

Around the next curve in the road, the beach appears like a hidden treasure. Dean taps him frantically and gestures to the parking spaces along the straightaway. 

When they’ve parked, Dean reveals his boyish joy. “Cas, this is my favorite beach. This is where we’ve come since I was a baby.”

He takes Cas’s hand and drags him to the steps leading down to the sugar soft sand. He rips off his shoes and socks, tucking them to the side of the wide bottom plank. Digging his toes into the sand, he closes his eyes and inhales deep and slow. 

Seeing Dean light up with childhood nostalgia makes Cas’s heart flip in fascination. His memories don’t make him grin. They don’t make him feel light and carefree. In fact, every nightmare he’s ever had spawned from his actual life. He’s never been afraid of the bogeyman. His neighbors were typically much scarier. 

“God, that smell,” Dean sighs. “I wish I could bottle it.”

Cas breathes deep, too. The marine brine is sharp and clean. Cas has been to the few beach areas in Boston, but they might as well have been parking lots full of sand for how little they resemble this work of art.

There are craggy, volcanic-looking rocks off to the right, covered in layers of seaweed, muscles, and barnacles. In front of them, the waves roll in gently. As the sun gets closer to the horizon, the light gets softer, making the water take on a metallic reflectiveness. Gulls hover in the wind, crying to each other as they search for the next bit of food.

To put it bluntly, it is fucking gorgeous. He’s overwhelmed by the scene, but more so by his stunning boyfriend. Dean’s skin is picking up the glow of the sun and the pinking of the clouds. 

Dean turns to him, delight sparkling in his eyes. Cas thinks that the look on his face can only be adoration, which makes his chest squeeze in reaction. He pulls Cas in for a gentle embrace, whispering “I love you,” into his neck. “Thank you for coming home with me.”

Cas swallows around the emotion, and answers simply, “Of course, Dean.”

Tucked into their own little world, Cas tries to memorize the perfection of the moment. The static of the waves filling his ears, the scent of Dean’s skin mingling with the salt air, the feel of his hands gripping him with tenderness. This might be as close to heaven as Cas will ever get.

“You aren’t nervous about meeting my dad, are you?”

Cas huffs out a laugh. “Of course I am. Not only is he your father, but he’s a criminal lawyer. I know that you didn’t look at my rap sheet, but I know he did.”

“He won’t hold any of that against you. You know that, right?”

Cas looks off to the side. “I would.”

Dean tugs on his hand to get him to walk beside him along the water line. “He’s protective, but he’s fair. He might ask you about some of what’s in your record, but he won’t make unfair assumptions.”

Cas studies his face, deciding that Dean is speaking in earnest. He nods, feeling mildly better. He knows that Mary likes him. He just hopes that she and Dean can sway John enough so that they can have a good start. 

They walk quietly, meandering along the line of surf. Dean stops to pick up shell after shell along the tide line, but after inspection, throws them all back. Cas lets the roar of the waves overtake his thoughts; lets his worries drift out to sea with every retreating wave. Blissfully blank, he drifts along at Dean’s side, completely held in thrall by the mighty ocean. His feet squish into the cold, wet sand, peace settling into his bones. 

“This is really beautiful,” Cas observes. “It must have been a lovely childhood.”

Dean stops his search and focuses on Cas. “It really was.”

Pulling him in close again, Dean whispers in his ear. “It might not have been your past, Cas, but we can come here as often as you like. It can be part of many of our future memories.”

Cas smiles at the thought of their memories entwining and becoming the same. Dean’s life is entangling with his and while the thought is terrifying, it’s also exhilarating.

Lacing their fingers together, Cas walks him towards the rocks. “Is it safe to go up there?”

“Yeah, sure. We can go up. As a matter of fact, it’s perfect timing for tide pools.”

A grin lifts the corners of his eyes into crinkled delight. “I’ve never seen one.”

“Oh, they’re usually full of cool creatures here.” Dean tugs on his hand now. 

“Just watch your footing. That seaweed is slippery as hell,” Dean warns as he starts his climb. It’s tricky to find good footholds that aren’t shining with dense layers of wet plant matter. Cas follows behind Dean, though, and keeps to the path that he takes. 

Quite a way out on the jetty of rocks, they find a large tide pool teeming with life. Fish, shrimp, and jellyfish dart about looking for the way back to open water. Sea stars glide along the vertical walls, and anemones wave their tentacles delicately. Cas clamors up to get an overhead view. “Shit. This is better than an aquarium.”

“When Sam and I were little, we found a cranky lobster in one of the pools. We wanted to take him home with us, but he wasn’t having any part of it. He wasn’t about to be dinner for a couple of twerps like us.” Dean chuckles fondly at the memory. “Sam leaned over a little too far with his bucket and went ass over elbows into the drink. I’d never heard that kid squeal so loud before.”

They sit in silence for a few more minutes, exploring all of the nooks and crannies of the temporary shelter. Cas finds a tiny little crab that zooms along the bottom when Cas’s fingers get too close. It surprises him when he hears Dean shout. 

“Cas, come look at this!” he exclaims. He holds up the perfect sand dollar the size of his palm. He inspects it carefully as Cas gets closer. “I’ve never seen one this big without any chips. Isn’t it gorgeous? It’s empty, too, so we can take it home.”

He understands the awe in Dean’s voice when it is placed in his hand. The sand dollar is delicate and brittle, like porcelain. Besides the five capsule-shaped holes, the top is covered in patterns of dots that create a five petal flower pattern. 

“It’s perfect,” Cas praises as he tries to hand it back to Dean. 

“No, Cas. I want you to have it.” 

He wants to argue. This is too beautiful of an object for Cas to possess. His life is rough, wild. He will surely break it. Before he can deny the gift, Dean continues.

“This is a treasure, and you haven’t experienced nearly enough of them, Cas.”

He holds it in his hand, and looks up at Dean. The electric connection between them surges to life as they lean in closer. The sun is setting behind them, but it’s still casting its light into the clouds, rendering them in watercolor warm hues. 

Cas’s eyes are magical in this golden light. Dean is caught in their snare, wanting nothing more than to watch them glow with contentment.

“You’re too good to me,” Cas admits, setting the sand dollar in a patch of wet seaweed next to him for safe keeping. 

“You haven’t seen anything yet, sweetheart. I’m going to blow you away with my romancing skills.” Dean winks cheekily to bring the mood back up.

Cas gives him a lewd grin. “All I heard was that you were going to blow me.”

Dean tilts his head back and laughs from his gut. 

Cas isn’t ready for the abrupt shift in his demeanor. He suddenly stops laughing and crawls over into Cas’s lap with a wicked sparkle in his eyes.

“Is that what you want, Cas? You want me to suck you out here?”

Cas looks around them, seeing only a couple cars up on the road near his bike. The only people visible are on the far side of the beach. He looks back up at Dean with one raised brow. 

“You do, you kinky fucker.” Dean chuckles, but slides back onto his knees and starts unwrapping Cas’s layers. 

“That’s hardly kinky, Dean. I’ve had your mouth on me enough to know that I’m completely addicted. I would ask to have you suck me just about anywhere and anytime. Scratch that. I’d beg for it.”

Dean halts his progress. “Would you now? How would you beg me?”

Cas leans forward and captures his lips in a wet, demanding kiss. He curls his tongue sinuously around Dean’s, taking and prodding until he hears a muffled sound escape from Dean’s throat. When he pulls back, he studies his lust-hooded eyes. 

In a low gravel, he pleads, “Please, Dean. Put your mouth on me. Lick me, suck me, get me soaking wet. Let my cock glide along your tongue while you look up at me. Please give me that tight suction that makes my eyes roll back and my breathing go erratic. Take me all the way down, baby. Wring an orgasm from me with that beautiful mouth, and swallow everything I give you.”

Dean’s brow furrows with agonized desire as he breathes heavily. A groaned out, “Fuck” drifts from his now parched lips, that he licks a moment later. “Cas,” he groans as a whisper, as if it is the answer to everything.

He cups Dean’s face gently, just fingertips drifting over the skin of his jaw. “Will you do that, Dean? I’m begging you, sweetheart. Please?”

Enamored by his words and the delicious images they create, Dean almost forgets to agree. Little bouncing nods precede his attention blinking back to what he was doing before Cas caught him in the web of his intensity.

Leaning back on his good arm, he lifts his hips for Dean to yank his jeans down out of their way, but just barely. They are out in the open here, no matter how isolated it feels. 

Dean is never shy about sex, so it shouldn’t surprise Cas when he pulls him forward by the hips and takes the head of his cock into the heat of his mouth. Intense suction forces a curse from his lips as Dean draws on him.

He knows that Cas can’t be as active of a participant as he usually is, his left arm still casted, so he picks up the slack. He misses the guiding hand in his hair, misses the way Cas usually sets the rhythm for fucking his mouth, but from all of those times, he knows exactly what Cas likes, and he proceeds to take him apart, piece by piece.

Cas’s head tips back toward the sky above because the view at his feet is too beautiful to endure. The sunset is spectacular; vivid jeweled tones of purple and orange, but Dean enthusiastically using his mouth on him, ripping away his control with lips and tongue, is breathtaking. 

“Christ, Dean,” Cas curses when he swallows his length. “Every time gets better than the last.”

Dean pops off his cock, spit soaking his lips and chin. Cas watches it drip, desire pounding in his veins.

“That’s because I want you more every time I touch you, Cas. I’m determined to make you feel the same way.” 

Swirling his tongue around the shaft of Cas’s cock, he keeps his eyes on him through the veil of his lashes. 

“I’m already there,” Cas confesses quietly, pupils dilated with lust, jaw clenched against the need to shout his pleasure when Dean descends on him again.

With a firm grip on Cas’s hips, Dean encourages him to thrust up as much as he is able. Combined with the bobbing of his head and the increasing suction of every pass, he’s able to mimic their typical rhythm. 

Feeling Cas’s tremors begin, Dean picks up the pace and adds just a touch of toothiness where his cock head flares. He knows exactly when Cas feels it; a shiver runs down his body and he loses his battle with silence. A long, high moan drags from his lungs as his body tightens.

Dean smirks around the fat cock that is forcing his jaw open wider than it is meant to open. He will feel the ache for days, but it is so worth it. He loves doing this for Cas, loves the weight of him on his tongue and the feeling of being used well. 

“Oh fuck, Dean. I’m going to come hard, baby.”

Dean hums his assent, bracing himself for the flood of pearly come. 

“Ready?” he pants. Dean can’t nod, but he squeezes his hip roughly in answer. Cas’s back bows as he slips over the edge. Only one word passes his lips as his orgasm pulses through him, wracking him with convulsions of pleasure. “Dean.”

 

*****

 

Dean drives the bike the rest of the way to his parents’ home. There are dozens of twists and turns, and the interior streets aren’t lit very well. This part of the island is where the locals live, high up on a hill overlooking the harbor with an ocean view all around them. 

Cas is thankful that they are arriving at night. Even in the pure dark night, his single headlamp shedding the only light onto the scenery, this island exudes wealth and privilege. At the top of the hill, Dean pulls into a driveway that runs along the side of a grand home. Both main floors have wraparound decks that encircle the entire house. They park next to a sleek Mercedes coupe, a Range Rover, and a golf cart. 

Dean turns the bike off and turns to see Cas staring up at the house. Wisely, he waits for Cas to speak. “This is where you grew up?”

“Yes. I lived here until I left for college.” Dean knows this could be a potential sticking point for Cas, so he waits patiently, ready to soothe him if necessary.

Cas is floored by the mansion that Dean calls home. The longer he stares, taking in its manicured beauty, the more tense Dean gets. Cas might be completely out of his element, but he understands how important this is for Dean. 

He’s not going to make this about himself. He’s not going to compare their lives right now and get angry about how unfair life can be. This is the first time being at his boyfriend’s childhood home. He’s going to meet his father for the first time. He will be damned if anything ruins this trip for Dean.

Smiling slyly, Cas remarks casually, “I’ve seen better.”

Dean chuckles and forces a kiss to his temple. “C’mon. Maybe you’ll find the inside more to your liking.”

Inset lights guide them around the house and to a flagstone path that leads them to the front steps. Cas hesitates for a moment, and then locks his shoulders back in determination. They step into what Cas imagines is a surreal cross between a Norman Rockwell painting and a Pottery Barn catalog. 

Joy radiates from Dean when he calls out to his parents. Cas’s stomach heaves, but he swallows back the bile. He’s faced scarier situations than this.

“Mom? Dad? We’re here.”

A sudden flurry of activity is stirred by his words. Mary peeks around the corner of the kitchen, brilliant smile in place. “Oh, you’re right on time! Dinner is just about ready.”

A stocky man comes from another room, where a TV has just been muted. He holds his hand out to Dean to shake, and then wraps a huge hand around his shoulder. Emotion is running high in his face, but he keeps his words steady. “I’m so glad you’re here, son. You’re safe and you’re here.”

Dean pats his father on the back a couple of times and pulls back. “Yeah, dad. I’m fine.”

John nods and turns his eyes to Cas. “You must be Castiel.”

Cas nods and extends his hand. As his hand is gripped tight, John introduces himself. “I hear that we have a lot to thank you for.”

Cas tries to deny his words, but Dean talks over him. “He will probably deny it, but he’s saved my life at least twice. He’s the reason I’m still standing here.”

Cas glances at Dean, surprise evident on his face. He detects nothing but earnest truth, gratitude, and pride. Heart in his throat, he feels his proverbial feet get yanked out from under him. He had no idea that Dean felt this way, despite their conversations about Boyar. 

John smirks at the intensity and heart eyes passing between Dean and his boyfriend. They are both so smitten with each other that they’ve forgotten that he’s standing there. 

“Well, if that’s true, you are welcome in our home any time, Cas. You have a lifetime invitation.” He thumps Cas on the shoulder and tells them to go wash up for dinner. 

Dean leads Cas upstairs with their bags. He walks down a long hallway, past a large game room and several doors, and then opens a door at the end. He clicks on the light, but ushers Cas in first. 

The room is like a museum to Dean’s childhood. There is a wall of trophies, medals, and framed awards in between two tall bookcases filled with books, comic books, and photos. Opposite the large bed are several rock posters, but not tacked up paper ones with frayed corners. No, they are framed and covered in glass. 

On Dean’s desk are several framed photos, which is what Cas gravitates to first. The oldest one is of a much younger Winchester family, including a toddler version of Dean holding an infant. In the next picture, a teenaged Dean and a younger boy have their arms thrown over each other’s shoulders, giddy smiles cover their faces. Cas knows who it must be. 

“That’s Sam,” Dean says, solemn and full of lament.

“You look so happy together,” Cas comments. “You were close.”

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “There aren’t a lot of kids our age in the family, and we got snowed in a lot in the winter. We figured out real quick that we had to stick together.”

Cas scrutinizes him for a moment before observing, “You don’t have any pictures of him at your apartment.”

Dean clears his throat and looks down. “It’s still hard to see him sometimes. He’s frozen in time, and I keep getting older.”

Cas tilts his head to the side. “You feel guilty.”

It’s not a question, but Dean nods his head in agreement. 

“Do you think he would begrudge you this life because he lost his?”

“No, he would be the first one to smack me and tell me to get the fuck over it.” Dean lifts his lips in a sad approximation of a smile. “But it still guts me, Cas. After seven years, thinking of him still has the ability to bring me to my knees.”

Cas sets the picture down with the utmost reverence, and he tugs Dean into his arms. After a moment’s comfort, he feels Dean get antsy, so he pulls a page from his playbook of distraction. 

“I didn’t know I was dating such an athlete.”

Dean turns to see the trophies behind him and chuckles. “My mom’s really into celebrating victories of any kind.”

Cas pulls out of his arms to inspect the altar of his successes. There are awards for everything from little league to spelling bees. “That’s really sweet.”

A fond smile reaches his eyes as he agrees. “She’s pretty awesome.”

Dean shrugs his leather coat off and offers to hang up Cas’s as well. When he disappears into the closet, Cas peeks in. “This is almost as big as my room,” he scoffs.

“Sam and I used to play in here all the time. We would hang blankets up and make forts and castles.”

Cas can picture Dean wearing a bathrobe with a paper bag crown, his little brother looking up at him in awe. His heart aches for Dean’s loss. He wishes that he could give that innocence back to him, give him more time with Sam.

Before Cas can say anything else, Mary calls them down for dinner. 

*****

Mary watches Cas throughout dinner. Dean had warned them to be relaxed and not interrogate Cas. He fussed over how they would react to his outward appearance until he wheedled a promise out of both of them to be on their best behavior. With all the hype, she had expected him to be fragile and easily spooked. 

Instead, he seems to be handling everything with grace and confidence. Looking beneath the surface, though, she notices subtle little tells. Cas soaks up every kind word with gratitude, appreciates everything offered to him with genuine amazement.

Dean didn’t share anything about Cas other than how he has been helpful to him during the Boyar debacle. She is a good enough judge of character to know that this young man did not come from a typical home. He is sorely lacking in family love.

“Are you coming home for the regatta this year?” John asks of Dean, breaking Mary out of her reverie. 

“Dad, you aren’t still doing that are you?”

“Of course. It would be good to have a decent first mate again this year.”

Dean is contemplating it, tapping his thumb against his beer mug. “I haven’t been out on the water in forever.”

Shrugging, John replies, “You’ve been sailing since you could walk, son. Why don’t you take the boat out tomorrow and scrape the rust off. Then you can decide.”

“I actually had planned to take Cas sailing while we were here, anyway. He’s never been.”

“Oh, you should make it an overnight trip and go up the coast,” Mary suggests.

 

*****

 

Cas has always known that Dean was talented. Seeing him at the helm of this beautiful boat just reinforces how accomplished he really is. Cas can’t help how his steady confidence and patient teaching is turning him on. 

For the first two hours of their trip, he teaches Cas the basics of sailing while he actively sails the boat. They head directly north away from Nantucket, weaving through a smattering of islands expertly. On the couple of occasions when Cas missed the mark by letting out too much rope or not reeling it in fast enough, Dean jumped to correct the problem, never once letting on that he was anything other than happy with Cas’s progress. 

With their course charted and the sail billowing out in front of them, Cas is sitting in the bow of the boat, enjoying the chill of the sea spray on his body whenever they cut across a bigger wave. They’re in open ocean now, no other sails in sight. Cas has never been anywhere so untouched by humanity. It smells pure out here; the kind of clean that feels elemental.

“You want to stop and cool off for a bit?” Dean calls from behind him.

Cas leans backward and smiles upside down. “Sure, but I still can’t get this wet,” he reminds him while holding up his cast.

“You can sit on the back deck and at least get your legs in.”

Cas nods and gets to his feet. Dean releases a lever and suddenly the sail deflates. He cranks a winch until the slack rope is pulled in and then tosses the anchor overboard. With a cheeky little grin, he leaps up onto the railing and whips his shirt over his head, dropping it carelessly on the deck. Flexing his back muscles as he gets into position, Dean executes a perfect dive into the Atlantic. 

Cas barely hears the splash of him entering the water. “Showoff,” he laughs, much more impressed than he should be by Dean’s peacocking. 

*****

They sail until the sun begins to set, now close enough to the Maine coast to see it on the horizon. After Dean secures the boat, they go down to the galley to gather their simple dinner. Dean turns on the lights that run all along the railings and up the mast. Their glow is golden and warm, even in the absolute dark threatening to collapse down on them.

Without a table on deck, they lay down a blanket for a picnic. They have all types of sandwich options that Mary packed for them, as well as homemade potato salad, crisp green grapes, and several icy beers. 

“Thanks for bringing me out here,” Cas says sincerely when there is a lull in their conversation. 

“Of course, Cas.”

“Sailing is such a rush. It’s amazing.”

“Yeah, I love it. I’ve really missed it this year. I’ve been so busy with getting the apprenticeship program off the ground and then with Boyar. I don’t think I’ve been home since last Christmas.”

“Not that I’m an expert, but you seem very skilled.”

Dean drops his eyes and grins. “Yeah, I can hold my own.”

“That sounds like false modesty, Dean. What aren’t you telling me?”

Cas waits, taking little nibbles of his dinner while Dean decides if he’s going to ‘fess up. Finally, he twitches his lips and speaks. “I’ve won some regional awards.”

Cas’s eyes pop open wider. “Really. So this isn’t just a little hobby, then.”

Dean chuckles and finally meets Cas’s eyes. “No, this is what won me a scholarship at BU and what I almost did professionally.”

Cas takes a sip of his beer and grins. “I knew you were a wholesome little yuppie, but a sailing scholarship? Wow. That is just-”

“Hey,” Dean scowls at him playfully. “You just told me how amazing it is to be out here. Respect my skills.”

As always, Cas finds Dean to be the most fascinating creature alive. Heavy with intent, his gaze holds Dean until his mood snaps into alignment with Cas’s in their private little universe. 

Cas leans over to connect with the delicious, plump lips that he’d rather taste than anything laid out for their feast. Keeping the kiss delicate and fragile, he drinks in Dean’s taste while whispering his promises, “I’ll do more than respect your abundant skill, my love. I’ll prostrate myself at your feet to worship you in any way you desire.”

Dean’s breath hitches at the earnest passion in Cas’s voice. After a dozen more tender, teasing tastes; Dean nibbles on the corner of Cas’s lip before he asks, “I thought you liked it when I was at your feet worshiping you?”

“Oh, I do. I enjoy that immensely. But I adore you, Dean. I’m willing to keep trying new ways to express myself.”

Dean studies his face, eyes darting back and forth between his until he finally rushes to capture Cas’s lips, just as his hands cradle both sides of his face. Forgetting that Cas’s arm is in a cast and can’t be used to support his weight, Dean leans too far into him and they both tumble over onto the remains of their meal. 

Along with the “oof” of air rushing out of his lungs when Dean collapses on top of him, Cas feels his butt cheek connect and sink into something viscous and squishy. A nasty feeling to be sure, but the sound of it makes him seize up in disgust. “I think I’m sitting on the potato salad.”

Laughing bursts from Dean’s body where it is crushing him, which makes his own body rock with amusement. He can’t help but echo his laughter, which starts the most ridiculous feedback loop.

By the time their eyes are damp with tears, stomachs and jaws aching from their unstoppable mirth, Dean has rolled off of Cas and helped him up. Stray snippets of giggles escape like valves releasing trapped air as Dean helps him get out of his food-covered jeans. Their hands meet, caress, grip as they work; soon followed by their lips reaching for every available spot of skin. 

Moments after Cas is out of his pants, Dean reaches to pull his shirt over his head. Fingers brushing over the monochromatic artwork, Dean praises Cas’s beauty with his mouth. He still moves slowly, telegraphing his intentions with plenty of time for Cas to stop him if he needs to. It doesn’t happen, it rarely does anymore. Instead, Cas leans into his touch, tilts his head to give him more freedom to touch wherever he wants. 

“Cas, I want you so bad, baby. You’re so incredibly hot.” Even though his words sound a touch melodramatic, Cas feels their honesty in the way Dean is holding him, in the tremble in his voice. 

“Tell me what you want. I’ll give it to you. Whatever you want, Dean.” He’s surprised to hear the grit to his own voice. 

“Fuck me, Cas. Please.”

Lava hot blood bubbles in his veins. “With pleasure,” he groans as Dean’s hand grips his almost full erection. 

It takes no time at all to shove Dean’s board shorts down with one hand as he stalks forward. Dean’s skin is still heated, his cheeks and shoulders blushed with pink from the sun’s attention. As he takes in the perfection in front of him, he is awash with devotion; awe sparkles in his gaze. He wouldn’t be surprised to find that the sun shines solely for Dean Winchester. 

When Dean backs into the thick mast, Cas kisses the tint on his shoulder, working his way up to his collarbone, which he nips with sharp teeth. Wet kisses drag up his neck as he grips Dean’s hip with his good arm. “I really want to pick you up and lean you into the mast while you wrap those legs tight around me.”

“Your arm,” Dean reminds him with regret heavy in his voice. 

“I know. I can’t.” Cas tips their heads together, sharing heavy breath. 

“Do you want to go down to the cabin?”

Dean shakes his head, “No, take me out here. Please.”

“You want to show the stars how beautiful you are when you come?”

“I want you to wreck me and make me scream, Cas.”

Cas purrs his agreement. Dean is in a very particular mood that Cas recognizes by his hooded eyes and breathy pleas. Dean needs to give up control to him, needs to be possessed. Normally, Cas has no trouble doing exactly that. Unfortunately, his mobility is restricted. 

“You’re going to have to follow my directions if I’m going to do that,” he says with an edge of authority in his voice. With their chests touching, Cas feels the shiver that runs down Dean’s spine as he moans.

“Yes, I promise. Whatever you say.”

Cas leers at him while their breath mingles. Guiding him over to a bench seat along the railing, he commands, “Up on your knees, pet.”

Dean spares him a lightning quick grin before rushing to comply. He can see the eagerness in the flexing of Dean’s muscles, his near constant shifting and fidgeting while he waits for Cas. 

Knowing that they would likely be having sex at some point on this sailing trip, Cas had stashed lube in his pants pocket, so he retrieves it and slowly makes his way back to Dean. The position he’s in reminds him of the first time he sank into his perfect ass.

Molding himself to Dean’s back, he brings his hands up to wrap around his chest and stomach. 

“Do you remember the first time I fucked you?” he murmurs with fond nostalgia tinting the question.

“Of course. In the backroom of that bar.” There’s nothing derogatory in the way Dean says it, but Cas is feels a little sting of regret. If he had known how special Dean was back then, how vital he would become, Cas would have done things a little differently. 

“That wasn’t the most romantic place for a first time,” he apologizes, his head tipping against the middle of Dean’s back. 

“Cas, we had barely met, and yet we were desperate to get our hands on each other. The location isn’t what was important. There was something raw and primal about every time we met in those first few weeks. You swept me away with your intensity.”

“Still, it’s a good thing we aren’t going to have kids,” Cas huffs as he kisses along his shoulder. “I’d hate to have to explain how we met.”

“Well, obviously we wouldn’t say that we had sex on a train two minutes after we met, Cas,” Dean chuckles. “We could just say we met in the subway.”

Cas stops talking in favor of trailing wet kisses up Dean’s neck as he tightens his hold on him. Dean grinds back into his heavy erection, pulling a hum of praise out of him.

Using the lube to slick his fingers, he dips his middle finger down into the crease of Dean’s ass. “I was completely obsessed with you after that day on the train. Seeing you again after jacking off to you for days just fueled that desire. God, I wanted you.”

“And now? You still want me, Cas?” His words are panted as Cas finds the tight knot of muscle protecting his entrance and rubs to loosen him up. 

A growl of agony rumbles in his chest as his fingers plunge into Dean’s body, slippery and warm. “There aren’t words to describe how much I want you, Dean. On most days, you’re all I can think about.”

“Mmm,” Dean moans, turning his head to plead for Cas’s mouth. The urgency between them grows with each touch of their tongues, each press of their lips. In moments, Dean is consumed by such a fiery ache that he whimpers every time their lips separate for breath. “Cas, please,” he begs. “Take me.”

Cas’s hand trembles as he thumbs Dean’s round cheek to the side. 

“You’re going to have to help spread yourself for me, baby,” he whispers by his ear. Dean complies, giving Cas access to his stretched, but still tight hole. 

He pauses with the head of his cock just brushing the edges of Dean’s rim. Anticipation crackles over him, urging him to plunge into Dean’s waiting body. Even after the wait seems too long, the need to feel Dean surrounding him riding him hard, he clenches his jaw and trembles. 

“Cas,” Dean begs. 

“What do you want, sweetheart?”

“You. Always. Please.” Cas makes him wait longer still. Dean can feel the velvet of his cock bumping into the delicate skin around his hole. He can feel the heat of him right there. So close. His body is straining to keep still, but it is torturous not to take what he wants when he knows is within his reach. 

Finally, Cas relents with a curse and sinks into the perfect heat. The gorgeous squeeze of molten heat is all the more glorious because he delayed their gratification. If Dean’s guttural groan is anything to go by, he’s appreciating it, too.

“Shit, Cas. It’s been too long. I missed this. So much.”

When Cas starts to move, Dean moves his hand back to the railing to brace himself. Cas might be setting a slow pace now, but Dean can already feel a snap to his hips that foreshadows that he’s about to be brutally fucked.

“So goddamn perfect, Dean,” Cas praises. “You’re strangling me.”

Cas adjusts his angle by wrapping his arm around Dean’s abdomen and forcing his hips back toward him. On the next thrust, he uses all of his strength and hits Dean’s prostate like it has a bulls-eye painted on it. Dean locks up and bows his back, white-knuckling the brass in his grip. His voice is pushed out as a desperate keening that echoes over the water. 

Cas’s lips lift in a feral grin. “That’s it, pet. Sing for me.”

“Fuck, Cas. Yes!” Dean wails as he rolls his hips back to answer Cas’s rhythm. 

“Am I making you feel good, Dean?”

“Better. So much better than good. Perfect, fuck!”

Cas grips the railing with his right hand, giving him the leverage to piston his hips with jarring force. He sometimes feels that he gets too rough with Dean, but seeing him melt into pliant submission is too delicious to give up. 

“Is this what you wanted, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” he sighs as he lets Cas take some of his weight. Cas’s body and mind prickle with possessiveness to see the lust-drunk, glassy expression on Dean’s face. 

Dean can’t concentrate on anything but the feeling of Cas taking ownership of his body, mind, and soul. He lets go of the reins and puts himself in Cas’s exceptionally capable hands. His head has dropped to Cas’s shoulder, tilted toward his neck. Harsh breaths warm his own face as he tucks closer under his jaw. “Yes, Cas. So fucking good.”

The thickness of Cas inside his body fills every crevice, sheds light on the empty spaces he has forgotten about. His growling babble of praise is making Dean fly even higher than he thought possible. Heart racing and pulse pounding, his body feels expansive, ready to explode like a supernova.

“You are everything to me, Dean. My best friend, my love, my muse, my family.”

Dean whimpers at the raw earnest truth spilling from his lips. He lets go of the railing to bring his hand up to cradle the back of Cas’s head, gripping into the inky strands of hair at his nape. Pulling him down for a messy kiss, Dean whispers, “Love you so much.”

“You scare the shit out of me because you could destroy me,” Cas confesses as his hips stutter. 

“Never. You’re mine. I won’t give you up.”

Cas growls approval and latches on to his neck for a toothy kiss as he makes promises into Dean’s skin. “Mine…forever” linger in the open air as they chase their release together.

 

*****

 

After days of being spoiled by Mary’s cooking, Cas is fairly certain that he’s gained several pounds. Every meal in the Winchester house is home cooked and notable for its overabundance. 

Dean’s mother is gracious, attentive, and if Cas hadn’t already had a taste of her wicked sense of humor, he might think she was a Stepford wife. Whenever he thinks of something that he might want, whether it is a glass of water or an extra blanket, she anticipates the need and shows up to provide the solution. He feels cared for in a way he never has been before.

The day that they got back from their sailing trip, Dean and his father go down to the yacht club to register for the Spring Regatta. Cas and Mary spend that time drinking coffee on the porch swing overlooking Nantucket harbor and get to know each other. Everything is lovely until the dreaded subject of family arises.

“Tell me about your family, Cas. Where did you grow up?”

She knows that she has made a grievous error as soon as she notices his relaxed posture tense up and his head drop in shame. 

“I’m sorry. That was rude of me, Cas. You don’t-”

“No, it’s fine. I just assumed that Dean had told you,” Cas replies. The heartbreak in his eyes tells her what words will not. What Cas is about to confide in her is something that he is ashamed of, that defines him in ways that he isn’t comfortable with.

Seeing this brazenly confident young man tuck in on himself as he contemplates what parts of his story to share, makes her anxious to reach out and console him. Rather than subject him to her motherly need to hug, she sits on her hands and lets him approach at his own pace. 

“I don’t have a family. I never did.” Cas chances a glance in her direction to see her reaction. Mary’s eyes look pained, but not pitying. She looks like she wants to take his pain. That look is so familiar to him, and in this moment, she has never looked more like Dean.

“My mother was a junkie, and she OD’ed when I was a few days old. She didn’t have family, and even though she named my father on my birth certificate, no one could find him.”

“Cas, I am so sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to pry.”

He casts a sad smile in her direction, eyes thoughtful. “It’s fine. I actually think I want you to know.”

She can’t help but reach out then and cover his forearm with her hand. She is proud and honored that he is ready to open up to her.

“Tell me whatever you want. I will take it to my grave.”

Cas chuckles, “Well, that’s morbid. Appreciated, but a little creepy.”

“So, did you grow up in foster homes?” she nudges him gently to continue.

“I was in an orphanage for several years first. It was a state run facility, so it was as overcrowded as our jails.”

“Christ,” Mary closes her eyes on the curse to absorb the pain at hearing about his childhood. “How long were you there?”

“Years. I started Kindergarten there. I was shuffled off into the foster care system after that. I remember my case manager talking about finding a family to adopt me. It seemed to be her sole focus. I just didn’t understand the importance of it.”

“You can’t miss what you don’t have, I guess?”

“Yeah, but I figured it out a couple of years later. When we had school plays and open houses, I never had anyone there that wanted to take my picture or talk to my teachers about me.”

Mary tries to hold back her tears. She lets him unpack and unload his pain, and she bears the burden with grace. When Cas finishes quietly, she smiles. 

“You deserved so much better, Castiel. You are an extraordinary young man, and I’m so proud of who you have chosen to become in spite of your circumstances.”

Cas’s eyes go wide in surprise. A faint smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. He feels a warmth in his chest that makes him feel almost weightless. Is this what it’s like to feel a mother’s love?

 

Lazy summer heat weighs them down later that afternoon, and Dean drags Cas over to the hammock at the edge of their property to enjoy a proper nap while looking out over the water. The hammock is secured to two tall Balsam Fir trees that fill the air with a spicy astringency that reminds him of Christmas.

Dean pulls and tugs on Cas until he is on his side with their legs tangled together. The hammock sags just right and supports them nicely. Dean’s head is pillowed on Cas’s chest; his arm is draped across his waist. Within seconds, Dean sighs his contentment and his eyes slide shut. 

Cas enjoys the view, listens to the silence, and breathes deep. Most of all, he watches Dean. The trees are causing sunlight to filter in to reach them in a dappled pattern. The contrast of light and dark make Dean’s face even more intriguing. His freckles stand out in the sunny patches, and suddenly Cas has the intense need to memorize the location of each one. 

His arm pulls Dean closer as he tucks his nose down into his hair. He’s still not close enough. He needs to feel every bit of Dean’s skin on his, but this isn’t a sexual need. Cas is craving intimacy, needing the comfort of knowing that Dean wants to be in his arms. 

“Cas,” Mary whispers from the edge of the tree line. He turns to meet her smiling face. 

“Dinner is ready, but take your time. It will keep.”

He calls her over with a nod of his head. She comes closer, and rests her hand on his shoulder. “What is it, honey?”

“Dean just fell asleep. We might be a while.”

Her eyes crinkle when she grins at him. “That’s fine. You should rest, too. I’m sure you didn’t get much sleep last night.” He squints at her to figure out what she is getting at, which she returns with a saucy wink.

Cas tries to assure her that they weren’t up to anything on the boat, but she stops him with a placating hand and a shake of her head.

“Save it. I doubt you’re having sex in the house, and you’re too young to go long without it. There’s no way you wasted the opportunity of being alone at sea.”

She says it so matter of factly and without any judgment, so Cas just nods. She assesses him a moment longer and then leans closer. “Dean wouldn’t tell me earlier how long you’re staying.”

“Probably because we haven’t decided. He needs to get back to work, but he wants to stay longer.”

“What about you?”

“I can do my work anywhere. I think he needs a little more of a break, too. He’s so focused on the trauma I went through that he won’t acknowledge his own.”

Mary looks down on him with fond appreciation. She ruffles her fingers through his hair and leans down to kiss his forehead. “Thank you for taking such good care of my boy, Cas. He means the world to me, and I sleep better knowing he’s in such good hands.”

She reaches out to brush light fingers down Dean’s back and then turns toward the house. 

Cas doesn’t drift off into sleep. He contemplates. He worries. He frets. 

He doesn’t know the first thing about taking care of someone else. He’s been winging it with Dean, but he can’t sustain that forever. He swallows hard. 

Forever is a very long time. He can’t fathom a few years, let alone his entire life. Just last night, they promised forever to each other. In the heat of the moment, sure, but Cas has never been so sure of the rightness of his words. Why is he freaking out about them now, then?

Realistically, he understands that Dean isn’t asking for a lifelong commitment. Not yet. But, they’re already starting to mingle their lives together. Cas is here getting to know his family. They’ve accepted him, for whatever reason. A stray thought wanders into his mental freak out. He wonders if they would have been so welcoming if he hadn’t saved Dean’s life. 

No, that’s his fear talking. Mary and John are friendly and warm to everyone. They wouldn’t judge him harshly. Would they? What if he screws up? He imagines that look of fondness on Mary’s face turning cold and angry. He swallows down bile at the prospect.

What about in years to come? Will they still be as forgiving of his shortcomings? Will they expect him to change? Will they want grandchildren? Will they pressure Dean into seeking a more respectable man to spend his life with?

Just when his thoughts take a dark turn, Dean starts fidgeting, signaling his return to wakefulness. His long lashes flutter and then open to reveal the wide green eyes that make Cas’s butterflies return. 

“Hey sunshine,” he smiles as he stretches. “Did you sleep?”

“No, I enjoyed the view, though. Your mom came down a little bit ago to tell us dinner is ready.”

Dean nods and then kisses him languidly. Cas is stiff at first, still lost in the quagmire of his insecurities. Soon, though, Dean coaxes him to melt into his body. Their kisses stay soft, gentle but needy.

“Now that you’re off the injured list, I want to make up for lost time,” Dean purrs as he slides on top of Cas to grind down into him.”

“I draw the line at fucking in a hammock, Dean.”

Dean rolls his eyes with a put upon sigh. “You’re no fun.”

Cas chuckles as he plants his feet to force Dean to drop between his thighs. “You know exactly how false that statement is, baby. Besides, you know your mom and dad can both see down here from the kitchen. You’re not going to risk that.”

With a big smacking kiss, Dean grins and rolls out of the hammock. “True, but I don’t think I can keep my hands off you much longer.”

He helps Cas out of the now wobbly netting. Pulling him in close, he continues the lapping, tender kisses in a now vertical position. Cas bites his bottom lip and holds it firmly until Dean opens his eyes.

When he lets go, his kohl-rimmed eyes dance with mischief. “How quiet can you be, Dean?”

He licks his lips before promising, “Silent. I can be so, perfectly silent.”

“Hmm.” Cas doesn’t look like he believes him. “We’ll see about that. Tonight, I’ll open you up thoroughly on my tongue before pounding into your gorgeous ass.” 

Cas punctuates his words by squeezing and separating his ass cheeks. Dean groans in need, pushing back into the contact.

He gasps when the touch is exchanged for a wicked smack across his ass. His eyes pop wide and he focuses on the arched brow on Cas’s face. “But if you make sounds like that, I will stop immediately and you’ll have to wait until we get home in a few days.”

With that, Cas turns and heads back to the house.

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Find me on Tumblr here](https://angelaland.tumblr.com)


	20. Monumentally Stupid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when everything is going Cas's way...he doesn't trust it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers!
> 
> I've been working on this chapter all week, like every free minute I could spare. Because of that, I've been horrible at answering comments. I apologize. I will answer all of them as soon as I post this chapter.
> 
> There is some definite angst in this chapter, so be prepared. There's also a lovely smutty scene that I enjoyed writing quite a bit. 
> 
> Enjoy!

*****

When Cas gets his cast off, he officially moves back into his own apartment. The time he spends there is limited, though, because Dean’s apartment is much closer to the museum, and he’s in the reserved studio as much as possible. 

Normally, it is only available for the artists that teach there, but Cas is an exception that they are happy to make. Judith is a harsh taskmaster, but whenever he completes one of her assignments, she praises his work with specific, quantifiable feedback. With each canvas, his skills sharpen. He masters acrylic in record time, so Judith moves him to her oils class. 

For weeks, Cas mimics master painters like Rembrandt and Botticelli; he runs through the great eras of art history like a time machine moving in fast forward. He spends an obscene amount of money on canvas and paints, and even starts a credit account at Blick’s. At least once a week, Dean stops by one of their locations to pick something up for his hyper-focused boyfriend. 

Dean is filled with pride to see Cas putting such hard work into his new hobby. Even to Dean’s untrained eye, it is obvious that Cas is excelling at this new art medium. With every new work he creates, Dean is awestruck. Just using a reference picture from an art book, Cas is able to create the most beautiful and masterful reproductions of priceless art. 

At the beginning of November, Cas brings Dean to a fund raising event at the museum. He is anxious to finally meet the mentor that Cas has raved about for months. Judith is in a circle of sophisticated patrons when she catches Cas approach. She quickly excuses herself to come greet them.

Judith doesn’t try to hug Cas, despite her effervescent energy, which tells Dean that she knows him well. Instead, she lets him kiss her on the cheek. 

“Judith, this is my boyfriend, Dean,” Cas smiles with pride.

“Dean,” she gushes and pulls him in for the hug she wanted to give her reticent student. “Cas has told me so much about you. It’s such an honor to meet you.”

Dean is taken aback by the effusive praise, but gives his most charming smile in return. “The honor is mine. You’ve really captured Cas’s creativity.”

She waves off his compliment humbly. “His genius just needed a little guidance. Once he figures out technique, there will no stopping him.”

He smiles over at Cas fondly. “I have no doubt.”

 

After introducing him to several members of the museum’s board of trustees and countless patrons, Judith tells him that he’s ready to start working on original pieces. It’s weeks ahead of the schedule she originally set for him, and it’s like she just yanked the training wheels off and shoved him down a hill.

When he attempts to remind her that he’s only been working in the medium for a minuscule amount of time, she laughs. “Castiel, you are the most talented artist I’ve ever had the privilege of mentoring. Stop hiding behind these excuses and create.” 

Whooshing blood echoes in his ears, his heart racing. Genius, prodigy, talent. Every compliment paid to him tonight has dropped another brick of weight on his chest. They expect too much; he’s going to disappoint them. 

Dean knows his gorgeous boyfriend well enough to know that he’s completely overwhelmed. He has watched him retreat farther and farther into himself as the night wears on, and now he needs to dive in after him and pull Cas back to the present. 

“Do you want to go back to your place tonight?” Dean asks when they are walking back to his car. “We haven’t been there in a while.”

Cas’s head comes up, and he looks startled to see Dean standing beside him. Dean kisses his temple sweetly and repeats his question.

“No, I need to paint in the morning, and all of my stuff is at your place.”

Dean nods, accepting his decision without comment. Cas is spinning, and he needs to approach with caution. Cas is a prickly bastard on a good day, and despite the accolades he received tonight, he is not having an easy time of it right now.

When they get back to his apartment, Dean disappears into his room to change into sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt. When Cas doesn’t join him to change, he goes looking for him. He’s holding a blank canvas, scowl deep and jaw rigid. 

“Hey,” Dean calls to him softly. After a second time doesn’t register, he walks over and puts a gentle hand on his arm. 

“Why don’t you come to bed? I’d like to show my appreciation to my genius boyfriend.” Dean’s tone is flirtatious and suggestive, but Cas misses it entirely. 

“I’m not tired.”

“Cas,” Dean laughs. “I don’t want to go to sleep. I want to have sex with you.”

Cas squints at him and shakes his head distractedly. “I’m not in the mood right now.”

Dean’s eyes go wide. That’s a first. Trying to get under Cas’s defenses, he teases, “So, all that talk about never getting enough of me, being hungry for me all the time; that’s worn off already?”

Cas rolls his eyes and sighs in exasperation. “Don’t be so melodramatic, Dean. We’re allowed to have off days without the world tilting off it’s axis.”

Dean sets his jaw and bites his tongue. He isn’t going to take the bait. “Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be in my room jerking off.”

Cas doesn’t come in to join him. He doesn’t come in to sleep before Dean turns out the light. When Dean gets up to make coffee in the morning, Cas is still in the little alcove of the kitchen they’ve given him for painting. 

There are a few small canvases tossed on the ground next to his borrowed easel. Splashes of paint are showing on them, but he can’t see anything defined. One of them is ripped to shreds. That tells him everything he needs to know about Cas’s mood.

“Coffee?” he asks when the coffee maker alerts him that it is finished brewing. Cas shakes his head, but continues focusing on his work. 

Dean drops a kiss on his cheek when he leaves for work, but Cas hardly notices. 

Bennie calls him about an hour before he is supposed to leave his office, concern evident in his words. 

“Did you know Cas is still here?”

“I figured. Is it not okay that he’s there?”

“No, no. Of course not. You know he’s always welcome. I just…”

“What? What is it?” 

“He looks rough, brother. He hasn’t done anything but paint since I got home at noon. I tried to get him to eat, but he just waved me off.”

Dean rubs a hand over his eyes. “Yeah, I was afraid of this. He was up all night, too.”

“He do this often?”

“I’ve never seen him like this,” Dean admits. “I think he’s blocked. Whatever it is, it’s eating him up.”

Dean looks down at his keyboard. “I’ll head home in just a minute. Maybe he’s ready to let me distract him.”

“I’ve got a late shift tonight, so I’ll be out of your hair before dinner.”

“Okay. Thanks for calling, Benny.”

 

*****

Cas isn’t ready to be distracted. He’s tense, headphones blaring loud music, and still wearing his shirt and pants from the night before.

Dean gets in his line of sight and waves at him. He gets a nod for his trouble. A few minutes later, he pantomimes eating, to which Cas just shakes his head. 

Alright. Dean isn’t going to give up quite yet. Chewing on his lip, he thinks. When the answer hits him, he smirks. He knows something that Cas won’t be able to ignore.

Cas is splintered; his mind chaotic and full of warring ideas. What is his voice? What does he have to say? Honestly, who gives a shit what he has to say, anyway?

He’s approached this first project in any number of ways, with a dozen or more canvases discarded when he lost interest in the idea. He just can’t find a clear vision. 

He never has this problem with drawing. He can just put pencil to paper and within minutes, ideas would bombard him. Painting is entirely different. Last night, he’d spent a solid hour staring at a blank white canvas with trepidation. He had painted a random pattern of colors on it, just to have something other than white to look at. It didn’t help.

He has his class with Judith in three days, and he can’t go empty-handed. He can’t. He has to prove that her confidence in him isn’t misguided. 

She has told him repeatedly that he has a unique perspective, that no one else has lived his life, and that he needs to focus on what story he wants to tell with his painting. The problem is that he honestly has no idea. 

He’s meditated, gotten high, drunk enough coffee to launch a rocket ship, and even switched to sketching for a while. Nothing has inspired him. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dean walk into the kitchen again. He feels a twinge of guilt for how he’s pushing his boyfriend away, but that doesn’t make him look up from the paint he’s laying down with vigorous brush strokes…until he recognizes that Dean isn’t wearing clothes. Not a stitch. 

Dean stops just in Cas’s line of sight, and waits until he finally has his attention. The incendiary look in his eyes as he surveys Cas sends a wave of desire washing over him. Interested is an understatement, so he sets the paint brush down and cocks his head. 

Lingering on his face, he silently walks towards him. With just a breath between them, Dean slowly drops to his knees and clasps his hands behind his back. 

Cas’s breath punches out of his lungs in a curse. He knows he’s been a shitty boyfriend. He’s so irritable and wrapped up in his own mind that he’s neglected the one person who cares enough about him to actually confide in. 

Instead of picking a fight, instead of giving him the cold shoulder like he probably should, Dean offers even more of himself. He offers the gift of submission, control of his body. On his knees in front of him is the love of his life offering himself up as a sacrifice for Cas to use.

Cas notices that the muscles in Dean’s back and shoulders tighten with every erratic breath he takes. Shit. He needs to respond to this grand gesture instead of just gaping at him, but seeing Dean like this is an epiphany.

Cas slips to one knee, cupping Dean’s jaw tenderly and tipping it back with his thumb on his cheek. When their eyes meet, Cas leans in to place a chaste kiss on his forehead. 

“Thank you,” Cas whispers. 

“I know you’re going through something, Cas. I want to be useful to you, no matter what it is that you need.”

Cas runs a hand through his silky hair, amazement on his face. “You are such a gift, Dean.”

Dean blinks a few times, emotion overcoming him. He swallows it down and forces a smirk to take its place. “Well, I guess you’d better open your gift…master.”

Cas stands and offers his hand down for Dean. When he’s on his feet, Cas takes him by surprise and grips his cock in a punishing hold. Dean tries to jerk away, but he is literally caught. He huffs out a pained whine, but Cas takes his jaw in his other hand to force his attention up. Cas looks every bit the dominant now; head high, shoulders back, and calm resolve in his eyes.

“Don’t confuse my affection for lenience, pet. You’ve offered yourself to me, and I plan to take every advantage of that. I will choose how and when to open my gift. Understood?”

Dean’s pupils are already blown wide with lust, his breathing harsh. “Yes, master.”

“Good. Go get your box of toys and get on your bed. I want you presenting that sweet ass to me by the time I get to your bedroom door. On your knees, spread as wide as you can tolerate, your head on the mattress.”

Dean licks his lips, awaiting further instruction. Cas lifts a brow, turns Dean around and smacks one of his ass cheeks hard enough to leave a raised, red hand print. “Go.” 

His one word command is followed with exuberance. He can’t help but smile at Dean’s retreating form. They have only played with this dynamic a handful of times, but Cas quickly figured out that the more harsh and dominating he is, the more Dean loves it. His independent and sexy as fuck boyfriend turns into a writhing, needy sub when he barks orders at him, and fuck if it doesn’t turn him on.

He takes a detour into the bathroom for a quick shower, knowing that anticipation is like a drug for Dean. Sitting in that vulnerable position, open and exposed, will work to get him in the right head space for Cas’s rapidly developing plan. Dean wants him to open his gift? A feral smirk teases his mouth as he rinses off. He can do that.

*****

Toweling off his hair, he pushes open the door to Dean’s room and the vision that awaits him steals his breath. Dean is in the exact pose he envisioned, his body tense and insecure as he lays himself out for Cas. He treasures this moment.

“Aren’t you a gorgeous sight,” he rumbles, voice dropping into a guttural register as he’s consumed by lust. Dean relaxes back onto his heels as soon as he hears his voice. To Cas, it appears that he almost melts into position. 

He can’t wait to get his hands on that phenomenal ass, his fingers practically itching to feel his wet warmth. He forces himself to wait and make Dean wait as well. He stands directly behind him, though, close enough that Dean can’t help but feel him radiating heat. 

He opens Dean’s box of toys, making a production of browsing through them, even though he already knows what he wants to use. He pulls out a new vibrating plug, a long thin dildo, and the prostate massager. Each item is held up for inspection and then put back.

Finally, he slips a finger into the loop of anal beads that they have never used together. “Hmm. I think this is the perfect toy for tonight,” Cas says as he slowly holds up the long chain of graduated silicone balls. Dean’s breath hitches and his hips shift, but he doesn’t say a word.

Gathering the strawberry-flavored lube, he drops the beads on the bed in Dean’s line of sight and finally gives in to running his hand up over his splayed cheeks and down his bowed back. Resting it against the back of Dean’s neck, he pops the cap of the lube with the other hand and begins a seemingly innocuous conversation. Every word and image is designed to inflame, to take Dean’s need higher.

“I don’t think I’ve seen so many beads on a single string before, Dean. I thought seven was a lot, but ten? That’s ambitious. Have you taken all of them before?”

Dean clears his throat and answers, “No, master.”

Cas is pleased with the shaky reply. Dean is already feeling his submission. He can’t wait to take him apart and leave him a fucked out mess. Dean is always beautiful, but seeing him wrecked and sated is a feast for his senses. 

“How many have you taken, my pet?”

“Seven.”

“I think we can do better, what do you think?”

“Yes,” he sighs, and then remembers himself. “Yes, master.”

Cas drizzles a thin line of the lube down the crack of his ass, letting the viscous fluid slip down slowly. 

“You’re fond of games, pet. How about we play a game?” 

Dean almost whimpers at Cas’s maniacal tone. This game is not going to be easy for him, and he knows it. Still, he nods his assent. 

“If you can take all ten without coming, I will fuck you tonight.” Dean moans and shifts his hips again. Cas uses a single thumb to rub around the tender skin surrounding his pink knot of muscle.

“If you come before then, you won’t get fucked for a week. How does that sound?”

“Will you help me?”

“Help you how, pet?”

“Keep me from coming?”

Cas offers a chuckle in response. “You think I should take it easy on you?”

Before Dean can answer, Cas dips the pad of his thumb into Dean’s center, slow and steady, making him part around the intrusion. “I think you already know that isn’t happening.” 

Dean sucks in a breath and pushes back, seeking more. Cas swats him sharply. “Be still.” 

“Yes, master,” he sighs, flexing his muscles to offset the pleasurable sting.

Cas lets his thumb retreat, pulling on his rim as he goes. Laying the string of beads out, he takes the smallest in his fingers and slicks it up with lube. Rubbing the little bead around Dean’s hole, he asks, “Are you ready for the first one?”

Dean nods, back tense and trying to relax. Cas’s hold on his neck releases so he can get both hands on his luscious ass. One hand gripping the muscle of his cheek roughly, he dips the small bead between them. It sinks easily, but Cas isn’t content to just let it pop into place inside his rim. He pushes and pulls, stretching the muscle out to make it relax as he plays. 

“So beautiful, pet. Your tight little hole is so greedy. I have to force it to give up even the tiniest bead once it sinks inside.”

Cas is already mesmerized. Dean’s ass is truly his obsession, so he knew he would be taken with this. He just didn’t expect it to affect him quite so quickly. 

Finally letting the first bead settle into place, Cas moves on to the next one. The stretch is a little more, and it takes more coaxing to wiggle it back out once it goes in. Unable to stop himself, when he pops the third one in to its widest point, he leans over and licks around the edges of it. 

Dean rocks forward, blasphemy on his lips. Cas follows his motion, chasing the taste of Dean’s skin tinged with sweet fruit. Dean is caught by his position, can only back up into Cas’s mouth or stay where he is. Cas uses it to his advantage, stroking his flexed cheeks with a firm grip while he pushes the bead into place with his tongue. 

Moaning and cursing, Dean tries to stay on top of the pleasure. Cas wasn’t kidding. He isn’t making this easy on him. Already, Dean feels his core tighten, his balls draw up. Cas’s tongue is magic and it is working to shred him into splinters.

The next three beads go quickly, Cas pushing him until he gets twitchy from not being able to ignore the fullness inside him. 

Rubbing his perineum, Cas checks in with him. “How does that feel, pet?”

“So full. Tight,” he admits with a tremble to his words. 

Cas pushes a finger in gently, feeling the bump of beads along his fingertip. “I don’t know how the last four will fit. You’re already stuffed full,” he purrs and nips Dean’s ass with sharp teeth.

“If I can take you, I can take the rest,” Dean huffs even while his hands fist the sheets in his grasp.

Cas grins, but uses his sass against him. He holds Dean down by the neck and slams his hips into his upturned ass, mimicking the thrusts he will give him later when he’s fucking his wrecked body.

“Are you hoping to feel me fuck you hard, pet? Do you want your ass bruised from the pounding of my hips?”

“Yes,” Dean tries not to push back, but Cas feels his hips roll with every harsh slap of skin. His eyes drop to the beautiful sight of Dean’s puffy hole, barely containing the inserted beads and trailing the string of remaining ones down below. His motion is causing the beads to swing like the kinkiest metronome, and he wants nothing more than to tug them out and replace them with his dripping cock. Instead, he forces himself to remain patient.

It takes everything in him, but he stops his pseudo-fucking, turning away from the sight in front of him to gather himself. Fuck. His hands are shaking, his breathing is erratic, and his mind is shut down. He laces his hands behind his head, taking consciously deep breaths to calm himself. 

When he turns back around, Dean is rocking his hips, lost in the rhythm of moving the beads inside him. Cas stills his hips and Dean tenses immediately. 

“Shhh. I’m not going to punish you, my needy pet. I left you for too long, didn’t I?”

“Please. Please, I need-” Dean’s voice is gravel and lust. Cas licks his lips and lubes up the next bead. 

“I know what you need, sweetheart, and I’ll let you have it. You know I will. You need to obey me first, though. Take what I’m giving you like a good pet, and I’ll take such good care of you.”

As he talks, promising to reward Dean, he slips the next two beads into his full body, watching him struggle to accommodate them. The sounds Dean makes when the next to last one drops behind his muscled rim has Cas gripping the base of his own cock to stave off release. Only one more. He has to get this one in before Dean comes, and he knows how close his boyfriend is. The sweat on his back, the trembling of muscle, the shaky breaths. And fuck. The sounds he makes. 

“God damn, you are gorgeous,” he moans as the last bead sinks most of the way into Dean’s stretched hole. It isn’t going to go any farther. Dean is filled to the brim. 

“Turn over, pet.” Cas commands, tapping his hip. 

Dean huffs out a tremulous breath and ever so slowly, he complies. When he is laid out on his back, he makes eye contact with Cas, who looks ready to eat him alive. With a lewd grin, he professes his pleasure with one simple word. “Perfect.”

Cas rubs his hands up and down Dean’s thighs, soothing him back into his constant, but under control, state of arousal. 

Dean fights with every cell in his body to get on top of the pleasure. He can’t lose this challenge now. He’s been thinking of nothing but getting Cas buried inside of him since he first sank to his knees in the kitchen. 

“You did so well, my sweet pet. What I asked of you was a struggle, but you succeeded.”

Dean loves the fond, tender tone in Cas’s voice. He’s basking in his praise, when he feels the cord to the anal beads tug against his rim. 

“Now, I want you to come for me, my love.” 

Cas swallows down his neglected cock, causing Dean to gasp at the heat and suction. At the same time, Cas starts pulling the beads out of him slowly, one at a time. The intense pleasure pulls a shout from him.

“Fuck, Cas!” he pleads as his cock jumps with the first sign of impending release. Cas hums deeply and continues pulling on the beads. Like being fucked in reverse, they push against his rim from the inside, his body giving way for them eventually. Dean drops his hand into Cas’s hair, needing the grounding contact to keep him from capsizing in the wake of conflicting and overwhelming sensation. 

“I can’t hold it. I can’t. Shit. Baby, I’m coming.” His back bows up, an aborted curse drifting away as he keens, going over the edge, going under and losing himself to the pulsing waves. 

He comes back to himself what might be minutes later, his breathing finally having evened out after a truly stellar orgasm. His vision clears too, having whited out and blinded him when he came.

Cas is still sprawled between his thighs, kissing and nipping his skin as he waits for Dean to be able to be present. Dean smiles down at him and cups his cheek with his fingertips. Vivid, ultramarine blue pops up to meet his gaze. 

“Are you still okay with me fucking you?”

“I’ve given you blanket permission a million times, Cas.”

He lifts a brow and Dean amends his title. “I mean, master.”

Cas grins and laughs as he gets up to his knees behind Dean. “Cas is fine. I’m too fucking horny to maintain the facade.”

Dean returns the joyful expression. “Yeah, you ready to tear my ass up, Cas?”

He receives a warning glare as Cas lines himself up. Dean is feeling particularly bratty, so he refuses to be cowed by that look. He wants his dominant boyfriend to fracture with need and pleasure, just like he’s already done.

“Bury yourself in me, pump me full of your thick come,” he moans. Cas grips the base of his cock with a groan. 

“You’re asking for it, pet.” 

“No, I’m begging for it.” Dean’s words are emphatic. His tone filled with desire while his hands rub against for any part of Cas he can reach.

“Please, Cas. Fuck me hard. Give it to me, baby.”

Cas curses but slides home in one harsh push. “You’re a god damned menace, Winchester.”

“Teach me a lesson, then. Make me behave.”

It doesn’t take much to shut his bratty mouth. As soon as Cas hits his stride, hips snapping in an unforgiving pace, folding Dean wider and wider to make room for himself, his words falter and give way to high whines.

Pumping deep into Dean’s body, Cas feels the familiar tightening through his own, and readies himself to come inside of his writhing boyfriend. Falling forward and gripping under Dean’s shoulders, Cas makes the last few thrusts brutal. His hips stutter in a filthy grind as he comes, cursing in broken English. 

Sweat drips into his eyes, his lungs are sawing as if they’re about to give up trying to pump oxygen back into his depleted cells, and Cas still can’t make himself pull out of Dean’s body. Looking down at the sated mess of a man beneath him fills him with pride and satisfaction. He loves this man enough to make him panic on a regular basis. Tonight, though, he allows his heart and mind to enjoy the pleasure of loving him. 

Dean brushes the sweat-soaked strands of hair off of his forehead, his eyes shining with contentment. “I love you, Cas.”

Taking the moment in and letting it fill him with happiness, he takes Dean’s lips in a sweet kiss. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

 

*****

 

Cas wakes after a few hours of sleep, filled with immense inspiration. Images swarm through his brain, vying for his attention. He pads back out to the kitchen and gets a prepared canvas set up on the easel. Filling his palette with colors, he chooses the brushes and sets to work. 

The ease with which his vision comes to life on the canvas makes tears of joy fill his eyes. After such a violent struggle earlier, this uninterrupted flow is delicious and goes a long way to restoring his faith in his talent. 

The sun comes up unnoticed, and Cas finally catches motion in the apartment that isn’t his own. Dean’s frown of worry creases his brow as he takes in Cas’s rumpled state. 

Cas shakes his head and bestows a toothy, gummy grin on his brilliant boyfriend. 

“Dean, come look. You were exactly what I needed, baby. I’m not blocked anymore.”

Dean uneasily comes around to look at the canvas. When he sees it, he gasps. Cas has painted him nude from the back, kneeling and back on his heels, his head turned enough to the side to not be recognizable. His head is bent, his hands clasped to each elbow. There are deep shadows touching his form in the painting, moody and dark in contrast with the vivid light elements.

The subject matter could easily make it erotic or even garish, but instead, the painting gives him the feeling that having Dean like this is something that Cas treasures. The painting is a reflection of Cas’s appreciation.

“It’s beautiful, Cas.”

Cas puts his arms around Dean’s back, hooking his chin over his shoulder. “You’re not upset that I painted you in such a vulnerable way?”

“No, not at all. The emotion that I’m getting from it is that you’re protective of the moment, like I’m something you cherish.”

Cas pulls him tighter to his chest, murmuring into his neck between delicate, wet kisses. 

“You are, my love. You are my greatest treasure.”

 

*****

 

Judith is thrilled by his work, even as a deep blush graces her cheeks. Her hand goes to her neck when she comments. “Oh my, Castiel. This is quite provocative.”

He tilts his head to study her. “That’s a good thing, right?”

“In this case, it is most definitely a good thing. You’ve created a lovely, if unconventional, moment.”

“You think it’s too unconventional?”

“For the general public? Possibly.”

Cas casts his eyes down in disappointment at her critique. 

“But,” she adds quickly. “I don’t know that the general public is your audience.”

“So you don’t think that I’m going to be a viable commercial artist?”

She looks up from the painting, her brow furrowed. “I said no such thing. I’m merely suggesting that you should paint for yourself, embrace what you are interested in creating, and your audience will find you.” 

Cas stands and snorts in derision. “That sounds like a kind way of letting me down.” 

She watches him pace, anger at his temper tantrum sneaking into her voice. “Castiel, I have never in my life taken on an untalented artist as a protege, and I certainly wouldn’t let them down easily if they created work that was sub par.”

His eyes snap with fire, but he stills. 

“You should be proud of this piece, Cas. It is beautiful, emotional, and makes your audience feel that they are intruding on an extremely private moment.”

“Then why don’t you think it’s fit for public consumption?” His voice is aching with the desire to be enough, to finally fit in with society.

She sighs at him, wondering if he is deliberately misunderstanding her words. “Dominance and submission is not exactly mainstream content. Most people won’t understand that this is a loving moment because this dynamic isn’t part of their lives.”

Cas swallows, pain etched in his features. His mouth is slack, words temporarily abandoning him. 

“They’ll see me as a freak.” 

Shaking her head, Judith tries to correct his interpretation, but he backs up several steps. 

“Please don’t leave, Cas. Let me explain myself better.”

He halts her with an outstretched hand. “You’ve been honest. I can take the criticism.” He turns and leaves, his fists shoved deep in his pockets.

 

*****

 

Instead of waiting for the bus to go to Dean’s apartment, Cas decides that he wants to lick his wounds in his own space. Before he descends into the subway station and loses his signal, he sends out a quick text to let him know. Not waiting for a response feels like a chicken shit thing to do, but he can’t be bothered to care right now. 

Popping in his headphones, he turns on a random play list so that he isn’t forced to hear the humanity surrounding him. His throat feels tight, clogged as it is with bitter disappointment. He’d believed all of Judith’s praise, believed that she was the teacher he’d been destined to find after a lifetime of hiding his talent away. 

Feeling hope, letting himself open up to the possibility of being a recognized artist, is so much worse now that it’s been dashed. His armor is cracked, and he feels exposed in a fatal way. It took him years to build up his exterior defenses, only to be shattered by one decisive blow.

When he trudges up the steps of the station nearest his apartment, his text alerts ding, making him cringe. Sighing, he opens his phone. 

Dean has sent him two texts, one replying to his original, the other, asking him to meet him at the warehouse that he just got the keys to. Fuck. That was why he was going to Dean’s place to begin with.

His successful, sexy boyfriend closed on his dream location for his apprenticeship program yesterday, and he got the keys from the bank today. Wiping a hand over his face, he drops his head back to the sky. No matter how shitty he feels, he can’t bail on this celebration with Dean.

The last thing he wants to do is get back on the ‘T’, but when he pulls out his wallet, there’s no budget for a cab. Ugh. Turning on his heel, he walks down the steps back into the station.

 

Dean is pacing in front of the entrance to the warehouse, anxious and giddy. He wipes his palms down the sides of his jeans before checking the time again. Cas is later than he’d anticipated. The impromptu picnic he set up in his soon to be new home will keep, but he’s ready to have Cas here to celebrate this new era in his life. 

Finally, he sees Cas walking down the street, head down and looking exhausted. 

“Hey, I brought my car. I would have come to pick you up,” he says as he gathers Cas into his arms. Cas pats him on the back halfheartedly and pulls back, still not looking at him.

“It’s fine. What did you want to show me?”

Dean’s a little taken aback, but he rolls with it. “Well, I thought we’d have some late lunch in my new place.”

Cas looks up then, Dean’s happiness is practically blinding in his sour mood. Dean’s eyes dart over his face, and he bumps his shoulder with his. 

“I got your favorite from that Japanese restaurant over here.” Cas tries to twitch a smile into place, but it falls flat. 

“C’mon. Let me feed you.”

Dean takes his hand in his, gently guiding him through the maze of rooms in the dim light. “The electricity hasn’t been switched over yet, so it’s going to get dark in here soon.”

When they get to the door leading to the loft, Dean unlocks it and ushers him inside. Stepping back into this room, Cas feels the same wretched feeling that he did when he was here last time. It shouldn’t surprise him that he’s sinking into the swamp of his inadequacy. This place is positive proof that Dean will be able to make his dream come true. 

Coming on the heels of his failure, it stings. He looks around the room and sees a takeout bag on a blanket, taking the spot where a dining room table will go one day soon. Dean escorts him to their food with a ridiculous flourish, even pantomiming pulling out his pretend chair for him with a cheeky wink. 

Cas rolls his eyes, but grins, so Dean laughs as he sits down as well. 

“When are you going to move in?” Cas asks as Dean is taking things out of the bag. 

“I’m thinking in a couple of weeks. That way, I can be down here full time while the other work is being done to get it ready for the public.”

“What’s going to happen to Benny?”

Dean looks confused, but catches the snappy tone in Cas’s voice. “Nothing. He’s free to live there as long as he wants.”

“He’s going to have to find another room mate, though, right?”

Dean shrugs. “Not if he doesn’t want to. My parents aren’t going to raise his rent because I’m not living there.”

Cas gapes at him. “Your parents own your apartment?”

“The building, actually.” 

Cas blinks slowly. Dean sighs. “Cas, please don’t make this a thing.”

He laughs humorlessly. “God forbid I react to your kind of wealth. You do realize that I don’t know anyone who can actually afford their own home, let alone an entire apartment building as a side venture.”

Dean swallows and looks away. “Again, Cas. It’s not my money.”

Cas scoffs. “No, you just buy entire city blocks.”

Dean looks at him in dismay. Hurt is in his eyes, and his shoulders slump. Quietly, he stands and mutters something about leaving their drinks in his car. He ducks out without a backward glance, and Cas feels like the biggest asshole on the planet. 

He gets up and wanders around the loft, acclimating himself with Dean’s new space. All of the interior spaces are new and high end, but he can definitely see himself spending his free time here. It’s going to be a shorter commute, for sure. 

Shaking off his funk, he makes a deal with himself to put his own shit aside so he can be supportive to Dean in this moment. It isn’t about him, and he can wallow in his own mess later. He peeks down into Dean’s room, loving the light fixtures in there. In the doorway, something else grabs his attention. There is a huge red bow surrounding a new easel, set right by the large bank of windows and under the skylight. 

Cas steps back and runs into the door frame. At the moment, the last thing Cas wants to think about is painting. It makes his head pound in a sickening way. Another fear attacks his raw and bleeding thoughts. Dean just got the keys and he’s already brought a gift for him here? What is he playing at?

“Cas?” Dean calls from the front room. There is fear in his voice and Cas hates that he put it there. 

“Back here,” he replies. 

Dean chuckles when he comes around the corner. “Well, you found your surprise. Are you one of those people that shakes their Christmas presents, too?”

“I don’t know, Dean. I’ve never gotten one.”

Normally, it’s not a thing that Cas would admit out loud; he doesn’t want to see the pitying looks. However, panic is starting to bubble in his blood, and he needs air. 

The shock on Dean’s face brings a sick satisfaction to him. Let the privileged, trust fund baby choke on that fact for a moment. As often as Dean turns his world upside down with his own upbringing, he can handle hearing more of Cas’s truths. 

“Cas, I-”

“Save it. Let’s eat.” When Dean stands agape in the doorway, Cas shoulders his way through. In a minute or two, Dean joins him. 

“I feel like something happened today that is bothering you,” Dean says with a hand on his knee. 

“It did, but I don’t want to talk about it. This is your night.” Cas picks up a piece of tempura with his chopsticks and pops it in his mouth. 

“Fuck that. If you’re upset, I want to know about it. This is just a building. It will be here tomorrow.”

Cas rolls his eyes and gestures around them. “Dean, this is your dream coming true. My failures will hold.”

“Failures?”

“Forget it. I really don’t want to get into it.”

Dean clamps down on his desire to wheedle details out of Cas. He knows that he will talk about it when he’s ready and not a minute before. 

They eat in simple camaraderie, ignoring the huge elephant looming in the corner in order to share silly anecdotes about their day. When their bellies are filled and everything is packed away, Dean starts fidgeting. He bites his lip, shifts from position to position, and starts to speak several times, only to abort midway through his first words. 

“What is it, Dean? You look like you’re about to explode.” Cas grins at him, loving this shy, boyish side of Dean.

“I have something else to give you.” A deep flush takes over his face, and Cas is extremely interested in that reaction. 

“Okay.”

Dean reaches into his pocket and takes out a small box. He hands it over to Cas, who is terrified to open it. The moment is filled with such weighty significance that Cas feels his life will change inexorably as soon as he lifts the lid.

“Don’t worry, it isn’t anything expensive,” Dean jokes uneasily.

He has to admit that his fear is depleted by that fact. Still, it’s ridiculous that it takes more than one attempt to convince himself to open the damn box. Inside, there are two keys on a simple silver ring. Considering where they are, he can only assume that they are keys to the loft.

“Thanks,” he says and leans over to kiss Dean’s cheek. “I’ll get your key to your old apartment back to you before you move out.”

Dean shakes his head. “Wait, Cas. This isn’t just a key to my home.”

Cas narrows his gaze. Dean is breathing heavy, hands shaking. “I want it to be your home, too. I want you to move in with me.”

Cas’s mouth gapes and he can’t make words come out. The best he does is a strangled, “uhhh” sound. 

Dean sits up straighter, his face dropping into distress as tension gathers in his shoulders. “You don’t want to.”

Cas forces himself to speak. “I think it’s a little soon, that’s all.”

Dean tilts his head, confusion marring his beautiful face. “You’ve spent almost every day at my apartment for the past three months, Cas. I didn’t think that this was that huge of a leap, to be honest.”

“Yeah, but this is a permanent situation.”

Dean stands, shaking his head in disgust. “Jesus, Cas.”

“This is a huge thing for me, Dean. I’ve never dated anyone else, and I’ve certainly never lived with someone I’m fucking.” 

Dean’s jaw is going to pop if he doesn’t stop clenching it so hard. “Someone you’re fucking? Are you kidding me, right now?”

“Okay, someone I’m involved with, is that better?”

Dean’s hands fist at his sides, and he’s breathing like a bull. “You’ve been itching to start a fight since you got here. Why don’t we both go home and we can talk about this when we’re both calmer?”

“It isn’t going to change my answer,” Cas throws out as Dean walks past him. 

Dean turns to take him in, rejection licking along his skin like flames. “You know, Cas? It’s pretty funny that you’re so possessive and have such a massive breeding kink when you’re too much of a coward to commit to a relationship with me.”

“Fuck you, golden boy. It’s not like you ever would have stayed with me once you got tired of slumming.”

Dean’s watery gaze is agony, his pain hurting Cas even as he is the one causing it. Without another word, he looks away and walks through the door, leaving Dean to deal with the fallout on his own.

 

*****

“Trouble in paradise?” Gabe asks snidely as he sits next to Cas at the bar. He’s already five shots in, a cold beer bottle in his hand that will not have the chance to get warm. The stale ashtray stink in the air isn’t appetizing, but he’s here to drown his sorrows, not to enjoy the ambiance. 

“Something like that.” He’s well on his way to drunk, and Gabe must recognize the slight slur in his words. 

“That bad, huh?” He flags the bartender down and signals for another round. “What the hell did you do?”

Cas turns his glare on his friend. “Why the fuck did I do something wrong?”

Gabe snorts and lights a cigarette. “You’ve been telling me how perfect Dean is for months, and you’re a fuck up. I assumed.”

As soon as the shot is set in front of him, Cas downs it. Gabe is still sitting there holding his with a pissy look when he sets the glass down.

“Nice.” Gabe comments and then tosses his back after he mutters, “Asshole.”

Cas is winning all kinds of awards tonight. He bristles when he thinks of the look on Dean’s face before he left. His stomach turns over violently when he replays their conversation. Dean asked him to move in with him, and he told him to fuck off. He left him standing there confused and heartbroken, tears in his eyes. Fuck. He is the biggest asshole in existence. 

“So what happened?”

Cas turns sorrowful eyes on Gabe. “Dean asked me to move in with him.”

Gabe looks like he is waiting for the rest of the story, but realizes that’s all his friend is going to say. With a chuckle and a roll of his eyes, he remarks, “Oh, yeah. That is tragic. I can totally see why you’re drinking yourself into a stupor.”

“He didn’t mean it,” Cas grumbles. 

“Why?”

“He’s a romantic. He’s seeing this relationship through his rose-colored glasses. He isn’t thinking clearly about our differences.”

“It sounds like he doesn’t really care that much about your differences. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Cas. He is in love. You told me that you loved him, right?” 

Cas nods, taking another pull from his beer. “I do. That’s why I’m saving him from making a big mistake.”

Squinting his eyes, Gabe scrutinizes Cas. “And you’re the big mistake, I take it?”

Cas nods again. “He deserves a lot better than me.”

Gabe does something he’s never dared to do before. He smacks the back of Cas’s neck hard enough to hear above the crowd in the bar. Cas turns to him with his teeth set on edge and violence in his eyes. 

“Are you really this stupid?”

Cas has his head slammed into the bar before he can blink, his iron grip holding Gabe’s head there while he seethes. “Watch yourself, pee wee. I’m already in a foul mood and I’m half drunk. Now, explain.”

“He loves you. He wants to spend his life with you. It has nothing to do with what he deserves or what you deserve.”

“He doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into.”

“I thought you told him everything?”

Cas swallows hard. “He knows my past.”

“Then, what are you hiding from him, other than your recent lobotomy?"

Cas’s grip tightens and Gabe squeaks out an apology. “Nothing, I haven’t hidden anything from him. But, he still thinks that I’m going to be a successful artist. I can’t saddle him with a failure.”

He lets go of Gabe and sits back in his chair. 

“So, you’re afraid.”

Cas glances up. Pain and fear showing up in his eyes. He swallows hard and finally admits, “Terrified.”

For once, Gabe doesn’t make a joke. He doesn’t play off his answer or poke fun at him for it. He just smiles and says, “That’s how you know it’s real.”

 

*****

They keep up the pace of their drinking because it’s a whole lot easier than thinking about how he’s going to fix the mess he’s made with Dean. That’s a task for tomorrow’s Cas, and he’s happy to pass the baton to him.

Cole joins them about ten minutes into the Bruins game on TV, and he brings news. 

“I know you’re out of thieving, Cas, but I knew Gabe would want to know about this score.”

“Do you mind?” Gabe asks Cas. 

He makes a sour face. “I don’t do crime anymore. I have no problem hearing about it.”

He focuses on the game and the bowl of peanuts in front of him while his room mates put their heads together. He hears some of the details of the job, and it actually sounds lucrative. They have an old school friend who’s been working night security at a property management company that specializes in restaurants. He just had a terrible performance review, and he knows they are going to fire him soon. 

They wouldn’t be going after money now. They would be after the keys and alarm codes for all of their properties, which their buddy, Jamie, can guide them to. It sounds like a breeze. 

“Jamie’s on tonight, and not again until Tuesday, so we’ve got to do it now or never.” 

“I’m in,” Gabe says immediately, which makes Cas smirk. He’s always been a leap in with both feet kind of guy. 

“Even with Jamie there, he can’t actually be anywhere near us, so we need a third to be a lookout.”

“How about Callahan?”

“He’s still serving time.”

“Eh, he’s an idiot anyway. I can’t believe he got caught on that job.”

“What about George?”

“He’s working nights already.”

“Shit.”

They go back to thinking, and Cas can feel their eyes on him after a minute. Without looking in their direction, Cas says, “Hell, no.”

“We didn’t even say anything,” Cole complains. 

“You didn’t have to.”

“Cas, it’s just lookout. You won’t even be inside.” 

“You understand what you’re asking me to do, after all we talked about earlier?”

Gabe looks sheepish, but rationalizes, “Dean won’t ever know. You can’t be associated with the job if you’re across the street. But we’ll still give you a cut of whatever we get from the properties later.”

The dollar signs he starts counting in his mind work at his resistance like untying knots. Glaring at both of their puppy faces, he sighs. “Fine. But this is the last job you pull me into.”

 

*****

 

Cas fiddles with his phone as he leans against a street light. His eyes scan the street in either direction as his head remains bent over it. It’s late, a little after one in the morning, and the street is deserted. He’s been out here for a little over half an hour, and his friends should be wrapping up the job. Making key impressions takes no time at all, and the company has a list of all of the alarm codes written down on a paper near the office phone. It’s like they did all of the leg work for them.

A loud boom comes from inside the building across the street. The building his friends are currently trying to rob. He’d recognize that sound anywhere. It was a shotgun blast, and Gabe and Cole just have small hand guns. 

“Shit,” Cas runs for the front door, adrenaline pumping through his body to get him up to speed with the now very serious situation. When he slides to a halt and yanks on the door handle, he practically falls backward when it is locked tight. 

“Son of a bitch,” he grouses looking around for another way in. He knows that Gabe lowered himself from the roof and went through an upper window, but Cole must have taken a different route. He isn’t sure why they didn’t think about the front entrance.

Cutting through the alleyway three buildings down takes time, but he uses it to try to contact Gabe and Cole. He texts with extremely explicit direction to contact him no matter what.

Neither of them make a digital peep, and Cas fears the worst. On the far back side of the building, he finally sees a car parked at a bizarre angle, and an open door. 

“Dammit. I should have been posted back here,” he mutters. 

Cas warily makes his way into the building, walking silently and listening for signs of life. Since there hasn’t been a follow up shot, he can assume that at least one of his room mates is still alive. 

When he’s deep in the interior of the building, Cas hears a very angry man screaming at someone else. “I can’t believe I went to bat for you, you piece of shit! I give you a job, train you, and then you try to steal from me?”

Cas hears the distinct sound of a shotgun being cocked, and ice drips down his spine. The owner continues to berate their old friend, Jamie. “I should do you a favor and end you now so you won’t have to suffer through federal prison.”

“You’re going to shoot him with two witnesses present?” Cas closes his eyes in relief. Gabe is alive and obviously Cole is, too. Cas thinks better of trying to interfere now that he knows they are both okay. The best course of action would be to call the police and keep the irate victim from firing off any more shots. He turns to head back to the alley to make the call.

When he turns the first corner, he comes face to face with a Boston police officer with his gun raised. Immediately, Cas holds his hands in front of him, trying to look as innocuous as possible. The cop’s eyes go wide, scanning over every inch of Cas’s body, searching for a threat. 

“Boston PD. Get on the ground and lace your hands behind your head!”

“Okay, I’m complying. I just want you to-”

“Now!”

Cas sighs and does as he’s told. He really doesn’t want the cop to be surprised at finding a gun tucked into the back of his jeans. Further into the building, he hears scuffling and muffled curses. The cop looks interested in the sounds until Cas takes his mind off of them.

“I have a weapon on me,” he states calmly.

“You-” The cop is kneeling on his back in an instant, trying to keep him down by force. It isn’t necessary, but Cas can understand why he’s a little nervous. “What do you have? Where is it?”

“Hand gun, back of my jeans.” 

The cop’s partner, who had been hanging back, passes them with his gun raised. He’s apparently interested in the same noises they’d all heard. 

While the cop on his back calls in for backup, Cas braces himself for what could potentially happen when another gun enters that powder keg. If only he could warn Cole and Gabe. He’s honestly surprised that the owner didn’t call out for the police when they identified themselves. Loudly.

“Let go of the door!” he hears from what must be close to the front of the building. 

“Okay, okay,” he hears Cole say. 

“Officer, they are trying to rob me. He’s got me at gunpoint.” Well, that explains his silence up until now. It sounds like Cole almost made it out the front.

“No, that’s not at all what’s going on,” Cole argues. “Let’s talk about this civilly.”

“Bullshit! I demand that you arrest all three of them.”

That makes sense, Cas reasons. After all, the owner doesn’t know he’s there. 

“It’s just me,” Cole lies. “I came here alone and surprised the guard.”

“Then who was that little weasel that ran out before the cops arrived?”

Good. Gabe got away. 

As he’s been listening, the cop has confiscated his gun. In his current position, he’s helpless to do anything but let the handcuffs lock around his wrists. 

Then Cas starts to panic. Shit. He’s inside the building. They’re putting him in cuffs at the scene of a robbery. Fuck. An armed robbery. He’s got to start talking to this cop and quick.

“Officer, I’m an innocent bystander. I was walking down the alley and heard a shot gun go off.” The officer shoves harshly against the back of his neck, which grinds his cheek into the tile floor. He keeps going with his story anyway.

“I saw the back door open, and it’s never open, so I came inside to see if there was any trouble. I saw the owner holding a gun on someone, so I turned to go call the police when you intercepted me.”

The cop snorts. “Yeah? You think that’s the first time in my career that I’ve heard that a perp is innocent?”

“It’s the truth.”

“Tell it to the judge,” he snarks.

Cas closes his eyes and all he can see is Dean’s face as he left him tonight. He looked devastated by Cas’s words, raw and aching. What is he going to say if Cas can’t get out of this situation? Dean was very clear about his values, what he could and couldn’t put up with. Dammit.

Even worse, if Cas is charged with a felony, Dean can’t be involved with him because of his job and the grant money he just accepted. Fuck. Goddamn it!

“Sir, you don’t understand. I will lose everything if you arrest me.” Cas’s heart is broken, his chin quivering to think that he might have lost the most important person in his life over something so monumentally stupid. 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Find me on Tumblr here](https://angelaland.tumblr.com)


	21. Pathetic Fallacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Repercussions of Cas's actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dear readers!
> 
> I know I left you on a cliff hanger of sorts last time, and everyone was VERY vocal about how they felt about Cas's actions. So, this chapter is the fallout. It's sad. I actually cried while I wrote parts of it because it hurt me to hurt them. 
> 
> Please remember that I promised eventual happy ending. 
> 
> Enjoy!

In a holding cell with Cole and Jamie, Cas is sitting with his head in his hands. After his processing was complete, they offered him a phone call, but he doesn’t have anyone he wants to call. He can’t ask Gabe to come down to the police station while the owner of the building is probably still giving his statement. Since he and Cole are tight-lipped about the mysterious third person, the man is talking to the cops about doing a sketch of him.

None of Cas’s other friends, Meg included, are close enough to ask for bail. That leaves Dean, who he unequivocally refuses to call. He’s not going to wake up his boyfriend in the middle of the night after the horrific fight they had, to tell him that he’s been arrested for armed robbery. No way. 

He can already see the prophetic writing on the wall of their relationship. Dean is going to be done with him after this. As much as it rips him to shreds, a part of him is glad. Dean is too good for his worthless ass, and now he’s finally proved it. While his beautiful, kind, loving Dean moves on with his charmed life and follows his dreams of helping kids, he’ll be rotting in the federal pen.

Fuck, it hurts. His eyes are watering, and he blinks back the first tears he’s shed since he was a little boy. Even then, he’d only cried the one time, when one his ‘uncles’ broke his arm.

He looks up when he sees movement in front of the cell. Jody Mills is staring at him, pity and anger fighting for dominance on her face. 

“You can’t say anything worse to me than I’m already saying to myself.”

“Oh, I’ll bet I can give you a run for your money,” she spits, crossing her arms over her chest and narrowing her gaze. 

“You fucking moron!” she starts. “Dean finally gets out from under the threat of Boyar trying to kill him, so you thought you’d take a shot?”

Cas huffs out the agony of her words, brow furrowing with the burden of their truth. He knows how much his actions are going to hurt Dean. He is dreading having to tell him. Cas hangs his head low.

“He doesn’t deserve this, Castiel.”

“You think that has in any way escaped my notice?” Cas snaps back. “He deserves so much better than me.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jody sighs as she wraps her hands around the bars and leans her head against them. “You know I like you, even if you do make some painfully stupid decisions.”

“No offense, but that doesn’t change anything.” Cas pulls his knees up on the bench in front of him, his arms wrapping them defensively. “He’s still going to leave me. There’s no way he can stay with me now.”

Cole’s head pops up at that. “C’mon, Cas. Dean isn’t going to let this get between you.”

Without looking at him, Cas explains how much Dean would lose if he continues his relationship with a felon. Jody curses and closes her eyes. After a minute or two of silence, she says, “Well, I guess you’d better not get convicted.”

There’s not much more he can say about it because that is absolutely not in his power to influence. He does start planning, though. His mind running a hundred miles an hour as he clings to the last vestiges of hope. 

*****

Jody takes him to arraignment, where he is officially read his charges, which include armed robbery, breaking and entering, and criminal trespassing. Damn. He and Cole are released a couple hours later. His phone is being held as evidence, so his first stop is to buy a cheap pay as you go cell phone. He calls the number he was given to make an appointment with his public defender. He takes the first one available; 8 am the next morning. As soon as he hangs up, he’s completely focused on getting to Dean. 

He’s so glad that he asked Jody for Dean’s number because he never actually knew it. When he asked for Dean’s number all those months ago, he’d just handed him the phone and let him enter the number. 

Dean doesn’t answer, but he’s at work by now, and it’s an unknown number. He smiles at Dean’s voice in his voice mail message, and rattles off a quick message for him. It doesn’t say anything that he’s dying to get off his chest, but it’s first contact. It’s progress toward resolving this horrible ache.

A few minutes later, Dean calls back, and Cas’s heart leaps. He must be at least willing to listen to him if he called back, right?

“Hello, Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas. It’s me.” He is quiet and subdued, but Cas has never been so happy to hear that deep timbre. 

“I know you’re at work, but I wanted to see if we could talk later. I owe you a huge apology and an explanation.”

“I’m…not at work today.”

“Oh.”

“You can come by my place if you want.” 

The muted, lack of excitement in Dean’s voice gives Cas pause. “Is that what you want?”

Dean sighs. “I don’t know, Cas. I’m still pretty fucked up from last night’s talk.”

Cas clenches his jaw. He hates that he’s going to go there and drop even more pain in Dean’s lap. If only there was a way to spare him. Unfortunately the only way to do that would be to lie, and that’s not an option.

“Would you rather I wait and come by another time?”

“No, it’s fine. We should talk.”

For the first time since he and Dean admitted their feelings for each other, they hang up without saying, “I love you”. It makes Cas nauseous, but he doesn’t get the feeling that his words would be welcome at this point.

 

*****

Stepping over the threshold into Dean’s space brings him a peace he hasn’t felt in days. Dean opens the door with his head down, not making eye contact with Cas until he closes the door behind him. 

As soon as their eyes meet, Cas knows why Dean isn’t at work. His eyes are red-rimmed and glassy, his shoulders slumped. Cas’s stomach rebels to see him so sad and defeated. 

“Oh, Dean. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” Cas’s feet move on their own towards him, ready to give Dean comfort. Instead of moving towards him, though, Dean’s body stiffens and he takes a step back. Cas stutters to a halt and he forces his greedy hands in his pockets.

“I just…” Dean sighs and gestures toward the couch. “Have a seat, Cas.” 

He goes willingly, not wanting to give Dean any further reason for stress. Well, until he comes clean about his arrest. He waits patiently, trying to let Dean do this in his own time. Dean studies him, scrutiny obvious in the pinched, furrowed gaze. 

“What happened yesterday?” he finally asks.

“I freaked out. It’s not an excuse, and it doesn’t make it okay, but it’s the truth.”

“So, what? I pushed you too hard?”

Cas shakes his head, denial at it being Dean’s doing. “No, Dean. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve just been feeling a lot of fear about us, that we are too good to be true, and I let my fears take the wheel. It’s all on me.”

Dean squints and adds, “You came in already upset. Did something happen with Judith?”

“Nothing that matters. She critiqued my work and I didn’t like what she had to say, but I overreacted. I refused to listen to her, just like I didn’t listen to you.”

Dean nods his head, taking it all in. “What fears?”

Cas looks down at his hands, clenched together in between his knees. “I’ve never had good things in my life. You know that.” Cas wrings his hands, forcing the truth out. “There were too many good things happening at once, and I was just waiting for everything to come crumbling down.”

“So, you beat the universe to the punch?”

Cas nods. “Not intentionally, but yeah. I self-destructed.”

He chances a glance toward Dean, hating the distance between them. A wall of conflict stands between them, making Dean seem like a two-dimensional stranger instead of the man he loves. Cas hates this feeling; he wants nothing more than to take a sledgehammer to the dark emotions that are keeping them out of each other’s arms. 

“So, everything that happened at the loft?”

Cas pleads with his eyes for Dean to see the absolute, earnest truth of his next words. “I still think you deserve a million times better than a fuck up like me, but I want it. I want you. I want to move in with you, Dean. I want the whole ridiculous fairy tale, ride off into the sunset life.”

Dean quirks a little smile, his entire being softening in an instant. Cas wants to let that be the end of their talk. He wants to cling to the absolution that Dean is about to give him, and move on towards that happy dream of a future where he gets to stay by Dean’s side forever. But he can’t. He has to tell him the rest. He has to break Dean’s heart.

Tears are gathering in the corners of his eyes again, but he manages to get the dreaded words out. “Before you say anything, something else happened last night that I have to confess.”

Dean looks like someone slapped him, shocked and uncomprehending. Cas can see the moment he comes to the wrong conclusion because shock turns to nausea. 

He leaps to correct the thoughts, “No, Dean. There’s no one else. It’s nothing like that. Never. I would never-”

Dean takes an unsteady breath when he hears Cas emphatically deny his worst suspicions. Relief rolls over him in a wave. Thank god. Just the thought of Cas looking at someone else the way he looks at Dean makes him sick. He can’t force his brain to contemplate him kissing or fucking anyone else. It would break him.

“Okay,” Dean says on the exhale, trying to stay positive. “Anything else we can work through, right?”

The pain in his eyes is unsettling. “I hope so. I really hope so.”

Dean waits for Cas to tell him what happened, to put this desperate feeling to rest. Now that he is watching Cas, he notices that he’s wearing the same clothes he was wearing yesterday, and that he isn’t looking stylishly rough like usual. He’s disheveled, tired, and he has a bruise or two under the stubble on his face. 

“Did someone hit you?” The words come out without thinking,worry taking precedence over whatever else he’s feeling for Cas at the moment. He’s out of his chair and sitting beside Cas in a breath. 

Cas takes Dean’s hand in his before he can touch his face. Up close, Dean sees the tremble in his chin, the tears in his eyes that he’s never seen before.

“Cas,” he whispers. “You’re scaring me.”

“It’s bad, Dean,” he confides. “I would give anything not to have to tell you this.”

“Just say it. Quickly. Just do it.”

Cas nods and forces his shame to take the shape of sounds, to become audible. “I was arrested last night.”

Dean blinks rapidly, his mouth working to form his own words. “For what?”

He ignores all the other charges and focuses on the one that will force them apart. The words come quietly, shrouded in regret, “Robbery.”

Dean staggers to his feet, backing away from Cas, stunned. “What?”

Cas stands, too, holding up placating hands. “I wasn’t supposed to be in the building. I told them that I couldn’t be involved, that I wouldn’t jeopardize what we have.”

“Then how the fuck did you end up getting arrested?” Dean is yelling, his words clipped and angry in his fear.

“I heard a gun go off, so I went to check on them. I went in the building just before the cops arrived.”

“God damn it, Cas.” Dean runs his hands into his hair, gripping the short strands tightly. 

“I know. Fuck. I know I screwed up, Dean. They needed a lookout. That’s all I was supposed to do, I swear.”

“Why the hell did you agree to that?” Dean shakes his head and turns. After pacing back and forth for a moment, he snaps, “Is this part of that self destruction you were talking about? Because I gotta say, you did a bang up job.”

Cas drops his eyes and shoves his hands deep in his pockets. He lets Dean vent his anger without any further comment, his occasional curse shattering the silence as he continues pacing. 

“Okay, go back to the beginning. Tell me exactly what happened.” Cas walks him through his evening of terrible decisions step by step, embarrassment tinting his cheeks. 

After listening silently, Dean asks, “Were you drunk?”

“I’d had a few, yeah.”

“So, you committed a crime drunk?”

“I didn’t-”

“Yes, you did, Cas! You were arrested.” 

Cas swallows hard and lets Dean continue to rail at him. “Of all the hair-brained ideas. I’m sure this was Gabe’s idea, wasn’t it?”

“Cole’s actually.”

“But Gabe was there.”

“Officially, no.”

Dean stops and tilts his head. “So that little shit got away and you got caught in his place?”

Cas clenches his jaw. Dean has every right to yell. He has every right to be pissed off and curse at him. “Yes, he got away.”

“Nice,” Dean sneers. “He ropes you into something he knew you didn’t want to do, and then he leaves you there to deal with the fallout. Fucking stand up guy, that one.”

“He didn’t know I was inside. He thought I was out front where I was supposed to be.”

Dean rolls his eyes and shakes off his defense of Gabriel. “You told the cop on the scene that you went in to check on the gun shot and you weren’t found with the others?”

Cas nods. Dean looks pleased. “Your lawyer should be able to get the charges dropped to trespassing if not dismissed entirely.”

“Dean. I was charged with armed robbery.” 

The color drains from Dean’s face at his words. There is no other word for the look on his face but bereft. Dean looks like he’s lost everything.

Cas walks into his orbit, needing his proximity to breathe. With every step he takes, Dean begins to crumble. His eyes fill with tears as he tries to shake off the words. “No, Cas. That’s a felony.”

Finally within reach, Cas touches his arm, desperate for the contact. Quietly, he agrees, “I know. Dean, I warned you that it was bad.”

After a shaky inhale, Dean’s voice wobbles as he speaks his fear. “This isn’t just bad, Cas. It’s the end.”

Cas knows what Dean is going to say, what he has to say. He tried to deny that it was coming, but here it is. This is the moment that ends the best thing he’s ever had in his life. 

Dean’s hand pushes his away as his first tear falls. “You did the one thing that I can’t ignore, Cas.”

“Dean, what if-”

“No!” he shouts, stepping out of his reach again. Dean’s face radiates agony and heartache. “There aren’t ‘what ifs’ here. I can’t be involved with anyone who has a felony arrest or conviction. It’s a condition of my grant, Cas.”

Cas lets the last thread of hope slip from his fingers. His shoulders slump as his vision swims. “I don’t want to lose you,” he cries. “I can’t. I can’t lose us.”

Dean’s voice finally cracks on a sob. “You didn’t lose us, Cas. You fucking threw us away.”

Cas lets out a whimper of pain at his words. His breath hitches as he openly weeps. He shakes his head, trying to push the vile thoughts away. “I have never regretted anything more, Dean. You have to know I didn’t want this. I never wanted this.”

Standing close and not being able to comfort Dean is killing Cas. Seeing the consequences of his actions play out in vivid, brutal detail in front of him makes him want to shout to the heavens at the injustice of their situation. He would give anything to be able to take this pain from Dean. He would gladly fall on whatever sword he needed to to give Dean peace.

“I’m sorry,” Cas trembles. “You know how much I love you. How can I make this better for you, Dean?”

Dean reaches out for him and Cas is in his arms instantly. Their embrace is anguished, both of them siphoning off pain from the other while trying ineffectively not to release their own.

“Why?” Dean pleads brokenly. “I’m not ready for this to be over, Cas.” 

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I wish I could take your pain, sweetheart. I don’t want to be the cause of this.”

 

Unwanted thoughts worm their way in to infest Cas’s flayed mind. This is the last time he will have Dean in his arms. It’s the last time he will smell his sunshine scent of apples and leather. He grips him tighter, trying to delay the inevitable.

“Fuck, this hurts,” Dean whispers through hitching breaths and his pitiful sobs.

“I feel like I’m dying,” Cas agrees, leaning deeper into the crook of Dean’s neck, his tears mixing with Dean’s that have collected there. 

Dean’s hands pet over every inch of Cas that they can reach, a last moment to memorize the textures of his true love before he’s forced to walk away. When their eyes meet again, red-puffy and tear-swollen, Dean whimpers and clutches him tighter. “I can’t do it. I can’t walk away, Cas. I’m not strong enough to push you away.” His weeping starts anew, shards of his heart shattering as they fall away.

Cas shushes him and kisses his temple. “It’s okay, baby. You don’t have to. I did this to us. I’ll be the one to walk away.”

Dean pulls his face to his with a vulnerable whine. His kiss is achingly pure and sweet, lingering for as long as they can both stand it.

Cas prays to freeze this moment in time. If he could choose just one moment to relive for eternity, it would be this one. He catalogs every second, knowing it will have to last. When they separate, they do it slowly, by degrees. With their lips still brushing, Cas asks for Dean to give him a flicker of light in the coming darkness. 

“I need to ask you something, and I want you to be honest.”

Dean hums his assent. “I know it’s a long shot, but if I can get the charges dismissed, would you consider taking me back?”

Dean wants to say, “Consider? You couldn’t keep me away!” But, he’s not okay. They’re not okay. Cas destroyed him today with one careless action. If he had been Cas’s priority, he wouldn’t have made the choice to be involved in this scheme with his reprobate friends. 

Dean leans back and meets his eye. “We would have to see where we are at that point.”

Cas closes his eyes to help absorb the sting. “But I’m not closing the door, Cas. I still love you every bit as much as I did yesterday. I still want a life with you. I just don’t want either of us to get our hopes up. Like you said, it’s a long shot.”

Cas nods and does the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. He steps out of Dean’s personal space. He takes one step after another, backing up until the connection between them breaks. Losing Dean’s touch, the familiar feeling of his fingertips on his skin, is the greatest loss Cas has ever experienced. 

His overly sensitive skin that has never tolerated touch now craves Dean’s. Through the fresh wash of tears in his own eyes, he sees Dean’s chin quivering. 

Before he can lose his nerve and fall to his knees begging Dean to stay with him, Cas turns and heads for the door. On the other side of it, he leans back against the wall, trying to take breaths deep enough to bring oxygen to his starved, constricting lungs. 

Hearing Dean’s plaintive keening on the other side of the door breaks him open anew. He should force himself to stay there and listen to the hurt he’s caused. He deserves to be gutted by Dean’s pain. He fists his hands in his hair, tugging to offset the tremendous agony of hearing Dean call out for him when he can’t do anything to help, when he is the reason that the love of his life is heartbroken.

After a few minutes, his masochistic streak relents and he staggers down the hall away from the litany of cries. When he steps outside into the crisp, fall air, he is offended by how little the world has changed around them. How dare the city continue on with its mundane existence when something so dire has happened. He has lost the only person he’s ever loved, and the sun is mocking him with its continuity. 

 

*****

Cas doesn’t remember getting back to South Boston. He emerges from the subway as the sun is descending, finally letting him grieve without its abhorrent and brilliant light. 

Dull. Everything about this place is drab and unremarkable. He contemplates bypassing his apartment and going straight to the roof where he and Dean used to sort out the world’s issues while they watched the slow switch from day to night overtake the city around them.

When he gets to his landing, though, exhaustion consumes him, and all he wants to do is black out and forget for a few hours. Upon opening the door, the first person he sees is Gabriel, sitting on the couch with a beer in his hand and a smarmy grin on his face. 

Cas snaps, comes charging in like a predator intent on carnage. His fist collides with Gabe’s jaw before he tackles him to the couch. He uses every bit of his considerable strength to keep him down while his now bloody fist exacts his revenge.

“I lost everything today, you fucking asshole!” Cas spits venom as he strikes over and over. He feels resistance tugging him away, but he shrugs it off. His will to inflict damage is too great to be dissuaded. “He’s gone! He’s fucking gone, and you just get to walk away!”

Cas chokes on a sob and finally lets the hands pull him to the floor. Heaving breaths fill the living room amid stunned silence. Gabe is bleeding from multiple cuts and probably a fracture or two.

“What the fuck, Cas?” Gabe finally slurs. “What the hell are you talking about? Who’s gone?”

Cas swallows hard, still fighting against the truth of the words. “Dean.”

“Oh, stop being so dramatic. Dean might be pissed right now, but I’ve never seen two people more sickeningly in love than you two. You’ll grovel for a while and he’ll take you back.”

Cole, who Cas landed on when he intervened, speaks up. “No, Gabe. I think he’s serious.”

Cas quickly explains the situation as he disentangles himself and gets to his feet. “Dean and I are over because I let you talk me into doing something I was completely against.” 

He walks back to his room, closes the door with a soft click, and shuts out the world as he turns out the light.

*****

 

Cas arrives early to his appointment with his lawyer. He’s scribbled some notes in a half-filled sketch book, hoping that some insight into the circumstances of the crime might give him a fighting chance to get the charges dismissed. 

The very young, mousy boy in an ill-fitting suit calls for him right on time. Cas stands and he sees fear widen the lawyer’s eyes when he gets a look at him. He chose to leave off his war paint and chains, opting instead for a long-sleeved, button up that covers all but the slightest hint of ink. Still, he rattles the kid. Cas isn’t liking his chances if they have to go to trial.

Putting on his most charming smile, he approaches. “It’s good to meet you,” he says as he extends his hand. It takes a couple of seconds for the boy to respond. 

“Yeah, you too. Follow me?”

They are sitting in a cramped cubicle, and Mr. Kelly is walking him through the night of the crime when they hear a commotion from the front. A booming voice is demanding something from a reticent worker. It catches Cas’s attention not because of the noise, but because the voice is familiar, even through the walls. He must be imagining it. There’s no reason for him to be here.

Soon enough, an imposing figure stalks into the cubicle farm. He sighs at the beige sameness of the area with no distinguishing marks. “Kelly?”

With a glance at Cas, Mr. Kelly calls out and steps to the entrance of his space. 

“John Winchester,” is the gruff reply. “I'll be taking Novak’s case.”

Cas can’t meet his eye. This gracious man opened his home to Cas, even after knowing about his past. He laughed with him over beers and poker, he asked him about his art, he smiled at he and Dean when they were snuggled together on his couch, and he never once made him feel like he was lacking. He can’t look up to see the anger and disappointment on his face now.

Instead, Cas glances at his lawyer, who is practically star-struck in front of John. 

“Wow, it is an honor to meet such a distinguished barrister,” Mr. Kelly gushes, fanboying with glee. 

John scowls and gives him a curt nod. “C’mon, Castiel.”

He pronounces his name with three distinctive syllables, which makes Cas flinch internally. He can’t decide if it’s done more out of anger or disdain. He stands and, for the first time, looks John in the eye. “I appreciate you coming here, but I can’t afford your rates. You must know that.”

Leaning in with an amused look, John replies, “Well, no shit. Not many can, son. This is a favor.”

Cas clenches his jaw. “I can’t let you do that.”

Getting even closer, John says in a warning, “I think we both know who’s calling in the favor.”

“Then, I can’t let him do that.”

With a sigh that is more just air forced out of his nose, John turns to Mr. Kelly with an impatient, tight smile. “Can we borrow a conference room?”

The young man hops to attention and guides them out of the cube maze and to the one large room at the back. As soon as they are comfortably ensconced inside, John shuts the door and rounds on Cas.

“You selfish little prick!” he growls. “You can and you will accept my help because it is the only possible hope of you getting out of this without a felony conviction.”

Shaking his head, Cas refuses. “He’s already done enough for me. I hurt him. I broke his heart, and he’s still looking out for me.”

“So you believe he deserves better?”

Cas leans heavily against the table. “Of course. He’s amazing. He’s…” He gets lost in his thoughts for a minute before he frowns. “He’s pure-hearted and selfless. I could never hope to deserve someone like that.”

John crosses his arms over his chest, his face like marble. His eyes, though. They soften with affection that Cas isn’t expecting. 

“Well, it’s a good thing that we don’t have to be deserving to be loved, then, isn’t it?”

Cas wants to relent, wants to accept that Dean called his father and asked him to take his case. But he’s still wallowing in misery, and it’s much easier to punish himself when he focuses on all of his mistakes instead of letting Dean sweep them away.

“Are you telling me that you aren’t secretly thrilled that I fucked up and I’m out of Dean’s life?”

All the affection drains away, leaving a ruthless shark in its stead. “Listen to me, and listen carefully, boy. I slept on my son’s couch last night because he called his mother in distress. She held him all night while he cried and ranted and woke up with nightmares. That boy loves you so much that it is killing him to not be able to be with you.”

Cas shakily grabs the arm of the closest chair and sits heavily as his legs go wobbly from picturing what John tells him.

“It doesn’t matter one little bit what I think of you. What does matter is Dean’s happiness. So, you and I are going to come to an understanding right here and right now.”

Cas bristles a bit, but can’t argue with John’s priorities. 

“My son has had a tough time of it since he lost his brother, and I’ll be damned if I watch him mourn someone else. If I get you out of this cluster fuck, you will show your appreciation by going legit and being good for him. Because next time, Castiel? I will file charges my damn self and I’ll make sure they stick!” 

Cas feels equal parts chastised and proud of Dean’s father. It’s a weird juxtaposition, and it leaves him twisted up. 

“Got it?” John snaps when he doesn’t respond.

Cas sits up straighter and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it. Crystal clear.”

John sits next to him and digs a file out of his briefcase. He opens it and Cas watches him pull out the arrest report and notes.

He clears his throat and asks quietly, “Do you think it’s possible?”

Distractedly, John asks, “Do I think what is possible?”

“Can you get me out of these charges?”

Suddenly, Cas sees exactly where Dean gets his smugness. “Don’t worry about a thing, son.”

For the first time in days, Cas feels like he can breathe.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Find me on Tumblr here](https://angelaland.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are amazing and I love them. Kudos are lovely, too!
> 
>  
> 
> [Find me on Tumblr here](https://angelaland.tumblr.com)


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